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« 

i 

I 

I 



A BACHELOR’S BLUNDER. 


CHAPTER I. 

MISS LEFROY, THE HEIRESS. 

“Hope? How pretty! Is that your real name, or are 
you only called so by your people?” 

“ I was called so by my godfathers and godmothers in 
my baptism. Have you any objection?” 

“ None. I think it is a charming name, like everything 
else about you! only, as one baby is so very much like an- 
other, you knojv, it seems odd that anybody should have 
been clever enough to hit upon exactly the right name to 
call you by. I presume that when you were a baby you 
had a little round mouth, a little round nose, and little 
round eyes, like the rest of the species. No one could have 
foreseen that you would grow up to— to— ' ’ 

“ To the possession of my present perfect set of features? 
Possibly not! but why do you say that Hope is exactly the 
right name for me?” 

“ I don't know. Something about the curve of the lips 
perhaps, or about your eyes, which are always rather wide 
open and look as if they saw something pleasant, or — or — 
well, I am not a very good hand at explaining myself, but 
I dare say you understand what I mean.” 

It is not unlikely that she did. At any rate, she must 
have understood that he meant to express admiration, and 
with that degree of comprehension on her part he would 
probably have been satisfied. This was the first time in 
her life that she had been addressed with such soft flattery: 
it was also her first introduction to a London ball-room. 
The glitter of the great crystal chandeliers, the amazing 
profusion of flowers which loaded the air with faint odors, 
the sparkle of innumerable diamonds, the steady, ceaseless 
hum of a multitude of voices, the rhythmic strains of the 


6 a bachelor’s blunder. \ 

Hungarian band, to which her little feet kept unconsciously 
beating time upon the polished floor — all these things ex- 
cited her unaccustomed brain, and filled her with that in- 
toxication of joy in existence which belongs to youth alone. 
If it added something to her happiness to be seated beside 
an exceedingly handsome young Guardsman and to listen 
to the nonsense which it pleased him to talk, she assuredly 
did not differ very much in that particular from other 
persons of greater age and experience. 

But Captain Cunningham did not suppose himself to be 
talking nonsense at all. <k The Goddess of Hope,” he went 
on presently, “ must have been the very imagaof you; that 
is, if there ever was such a being. I’ve forgotten my gods 
and goddesses since I left school.” 

“ You must have a remarkably short memory.” 

“ Ah, you say that because you think I’m so young; 
that is what everybody thinks. But you’re wrong; I’m 
quite old in reality — twenty-four the very next third of 
August as ever is, little as you might imagine it. I sup- 
pose,” he added, turning up his face toward her with a sort 
of innocent gravity, “ I do look awfully young; don’t I?” 

She scrutinized his small, refined features, his dark blue 
eyes with their long lashes, his close-cut black hair and the 
smiling mouth, above which there was but the faintest in- 
dication of a mustache, and answered: “ Well, yes; you 
do. But I don’t think I should mind that much if I were 
you. We shall none of us either look young or be young 
for more than a few years. ” 

“ Let us make the most of our time while it lasts, then. 
Shall we take another turn?” 

She nodded; he gave her back her fan (upon which the 
monogram of H. L. had afforded him an excuse for asking 
her what H. stood for), and soon they were gliding swiftly 
round the room with the other dancers. 

After all, the best moments of life are more connected 
with trivialities than we care to admit, and happiness, 
which we are told not to expect in this world, and which 
certainly is a very different thing from placid contentment, 
comes, and goes in flashes, seldom leaving behind it any 
rational explanation of its visits. It is doubtful whether, 
even in communing with her own heart, Hope Lefroy ever 
made such an admission as this : “I was happy once. It 
was on a summer evening in a big J^o'ndon house; I was 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


7 


waltzing with the handsomest man and the best dancer in 
the room; the lights and the colors and the voices went 
swimming round us like things in a dream; I almost forgot 
my identity, and the music seemed to be part of us — or else 
we were a part of the music. Somebody said: 4 What a 
lovely girl!' and somebody else said: 4 That is Miss Lefroy 
— the great heiress, you know. ' ” Nevertheless, she had 
to wait a long time before another quarter of an hour such 
as that came to her. The above fragments of conversation 
were the only words which reached her ears, and these, 
fortunately, were not acute enough to catch the remarks 
made by a good-natured person seated near the door to a 
lady with a hook nose and double eyeglasses and somewhat 
anxious expression of countenance. 

44 My dear Lady Jane,” the good-natured person was 
saying, 44 do you know that this is the fourth time running 
that your niece has danced with Berti$ Cunningham? 
Isn't that just a little bit dangerous?” 

The lady with the hook nose said: 44 1 trust not.” 

44 Really, I think it is. Bertie has three hundred a year 
from his father, and debts, and the face of an angel. He 
is always in love with somebody, and what is worse is that 
somebody is always in love with him. One can't check 
these things too soon. ” 

44 One can't dash into the middle of a ball-room and 
drag one's niece out of danger by the hair of her head. I 
will speak to her when I get an opportunity. The truth is 
that she knows no more about — about everything than a 
child in arms. Charles has kept her down in the country 
half her life, and I doubt whether she would ever have had 
a season in London at all if I had not come to the rescue." 

44 How good. of you!" 

<4 1 suppose you mean how foolish. Very likely it was, 
only it did seem such a pity that she should remain buried 
in the depths of the Midlands and perhaps end by marry- 
ing the curate. Still, people ought to look after their own 
daughters; I am sure I have enough to do to look after 
mine. Of course if anything interesting happens I shall get 
no credit, and if there is a catastrophe I shall be blamed. I 
wonder why younger sons are always so good-looking while 
their elder brothers are invariably ugly, or go in for eccen- 
tric fads, or have fits, or something horrid!” 

44 Because there is a- good deal of rough justice in human 


8 


A bachelor's blunder. 


affairs. The elder brothers don’t need personal advantages; 
the younger ones are given handsome faces m order tta 
they may get on in the world and marry rich Miss Lefioy_. 

“ You never would say such things if you knew how un- 
comfortable it makes me to hear them. Please take me to 
the supper-room, and let us think about something more 

Pl TtalL loosely built man, neither young nor old, with a 
long mustache and no other hair about his face, turned to 
a brisk elderly gentleman who was standing beside him, 
mid asked abruptly: “ Is that your niece, Lefroyr 

The elder gentleman replied: Yes, that is my niece. 

A handsome girl, isn't she?" . , 

“ Very. To whom are you and Lady Jane going to 

““^nobody that I know of. We have brought her up 
to London to giv£ her a little amusement; she hasn t had 

too much of that, poor girl!" 

44 You doiTt intend her to marry Cunningham, do your 
44 Cunningham? What Cunningham? That boy in the 
Scots Guards, do you mean? Hardly! AlMhe same, I 
should be glad if she would marry somebody. 

44 Why?" 

44 Because my brother Charles has heart disease. You 
needn’t mention this, you know, but the doctors tell him 
he may go off suddenly at any moment; and, of course, 
when poor Charles dies—" 

44 Oh, I see; you would find her confoundedly m the 
way then. You’re good-natured sort of people, but there 
is nothing you hate like being made uncomfortable. Don't 
mind my saying so, do you?" TT , , , T 

44 Nobody ever minds what you say, Herbert, and 1 con- 
fess I don’t like being made uncomfortable. For the mat- 
ter of that, I don’t "know who does. I tell you what; I 
wish you’d marry the girl yourself.’’ 

44 No use, Lefroy; the mothers gave me up long ago. 
Ask any dowager you like. I’ve had an asterisk before my 
name for the last ten years. No, I can’t help you in that 
way, but I’ll give you a bit of gratuitous advice: don't let 
her "see too much of Cunningham. Not that there’s any 
particular harm in him, only she ought to do better, I should 

think.’’ " , ' ' 

Meanwhile, the subject of so much free discussion was 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


9 


happily unaware of having made herself in any way con- 
spicuous. When the waltz was over she very properly re- 
quested her partner to take her back to her aunt, but as 
Lady Jane was not to be found— being indeed at that mo- 
ment busily engaged with aspic and champagne elsewhere — 
she readily assented to Captain Cunningham/ s suggestion 
that they should “ go and sit down somewhere.” 

It may be that Captain CunninghanFs mental gifts were 
not quite upon a par with his physical ones; at any rate, 
his stock of conversational topics seemed to lack variety. 
“ Hope/* he murmured, as he sunk down upon a sofa be- 
side his companion, “ I think iFs the prettiest name I ever 
heard. ” 

Something in the manner of his intonation certainly 
made it sound pretty, and the girl answered simply: “ I 
never thought of it as being especially so before, but now 
that you mention it, perhaps it is rather pretty. It doesFt 
mean anything though. I was called after my mother, 
who, I believe, was called after an old Mr. Hope who left 
her people some money. So, you see, if my parents wished 
to express any sentiment at all in giving me my name, it 
must have been gratitude.” 

It is doubtful, however, whether that sentiment had had 
any place in her parents'’ mind at the time of her birth. 
If they had called her Disappointment it would more near- 
ly have expressed their feelings. To own a large entailed 
estate, to have remained a considerable number of years 
childless and then to be presented by Heaven with a daugh- 
ter, is not among the experiences which evoke prompt 
thanksgiving; nor was Mr. Lefroy the kind of man to take 
comfort from thinking that his daughter's advent might in . 
due season be followed by that of a son or sons. “ I know 
what it will be,” he said, resignedly, when he was told the 
news; “ I shall have twelve little girls now.” But out- 
rageous fortune did not deal with him quite so hardly as 
that, for he never had another child of either sex, and when 
he lost his wife he was too advanced in years to think of 
marrying again. 

Thus Hope became a great-' heiress, Mr. Lefroy being a 
rich man independently of his acres. For generations past, 
as various collateral branches of the family had withered 
away, money had poured in upon the successive heads of 


10 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


the house, sometimes in driblets, sometimes in considerable 
streams, as it lias a way of doing upon those who do not 
require it; and over this accumulation Hope’s father had, 
of course, undisputed control. During his life-time the 
hoard had increased greatly. At first neither he nor his 
wife had been able quite to forgive their little daughter for 
not being a boy. Without being in the least unkind to her 
they had" not cared to see much of her, and had willingly 
committed her to the care of the best nurses and govern- 
esses that money could procure. They had spent a “large 
portion of their time in London and in foreign wanderings, 
while the child was left in the pure country air of her home, 
which, as they said, was so much better for her. The sight 
of her reminded them of their disappointment, and to Mrs. 
Lefroy in particular conveyed something in the nature of a 
tacit reproach. To her dying day the good lady did not 
altogether get over this feeling, and, conscientiously though 
she strove to conceal it, never succeeded in so doing; but 
when Hope was about ten years old, her father’s point of 
view underwent a sudden and complete change. Either 
because the child was so pretty and so winning in her ways, 
or because his own nature was an affectionate and his wife’s 
a somewhat cold one, he began to worship the little heiress 
to whom he could bequeath neither house nor lands. It 
occurred to him that, so far from his having a grievance 
against her, it was she who had the best right to complain 
of her sex being what it was. He at least would live and 
die in the old place, but she must, some day or other, give 
up the home that she loved to the heir of entail, and what 
might have seemed no hardship at all if she had had a 
brother, assumed a very different aspect when it was a case 
of retiring in favor of an uncle or cousin. So Mr. Lefroy 
set himself to save money, and accomplished with little 
effort a task which to most people is both difficult and 
painful. Since Hope could never be Miss Lefroy of Hel- 
ston Abbey, she should at any rate be Miss Lefroy the heir- 
ess — an heiress so great that she would be able, if it should 
so please her, to raise a second Helston elsewhere, as Hele- 
nus founded a new Troy on the shores of Epirus. This 
saving process did not bring about any curtailment of daily 
luxuries, but it made it necessary — or so Mr. Lefroy de- 
clared — that he should live quietly at home and give up his 
London house, and to that plan Mrs. Lefroy, who during 


A bachelor's blunder. 11 

the last years of her life was a confirmed invalid, offered no 
opposition. 

_ W hen Hope was between fifteen and sixteen her mother 
died; and after that she and her father become closer com- 
panions than ever. Their companionship, indeed, was 
somewhat too close; for each found the other's society all- 
sufficient, and they mixed less with their friends and neigh- 
bors than was good for either of them. During the hunt- 
ing season they were occasionally seen — a spare, melan- 
choly-looking man, very well turned-out, and a fair-haired 
girl, whose sunny face developed into greater beauty year 
by year — but nobody got much beyond bare civilities with 
this couple, and the vast house in which they lived was 
rarely enlivened by visitors. From time to time relations 
were asked down to stay, but the relations "found it so in- 
tolerably dull that they were generally telegraphed for on 
the second or third day, and had to leave precipitately. 
Sometimes, too, a stray artist would be invited to partake 
of Mr. Lefroy's hospitality, and the artist, as a rule, en- 
joyed himself. He could not but be glad of the opportunity 
of studying the Helston Abbey picture-gallery, which was 
not open to the public, and he was sure of being treated 
with the utmost consideration and respect by his host, who 
was himself an amateur painter of- no mean ability, and 
whose love for art of every kind was second only to his lov.e : 
for his daughter. When Mr. Lefroy took Hope up to Lon- 
don for a few days — as he did every now and then — it was 
almost always in order to attend a sale at Christie's. The 
old man was well known in the King Street rooms, where, 
in former years, he had been a frequent purchaser. He 
no longer bought much, 'having another use for his money 
now; but it pleased him to examine the treasures exposed 
for sale, and nobody knew better than he did whether these 
fetched more or less than their value. There is every 
reason to believe that he would have gone on taking his 
daughter to art sales, and imagining that by so doing he 
was giving her the greatest of possible treats, had he not 
chanced, on his way back from one of these entertainments, 
to encounter his sister-in-law. Lady Jane. 

Lady Jane stared very hard, not at him, but at his com- 
panion, and muttered under her breath: “ Really, it is too 
bad!" What she saw was a tall, well-grown girl, with a 
slightly aquiline nose, a quantity of golden hair very uu- 


12 


a bachelor's blunder. 


fashionably arranged, and a pair of large, wide-open, gray 
eyes. Nobody ever beheld whiter or more even teeth than 
this girl displayed presently when something made her 
laugh, nor could there be anywhere, in London or out of 
it, a more exquisite complexion. It really was too bad; 
and there was nothing for an aunt of proper feeling to do 
but to promise her niece a London season and disappoint 
her not, though it should be to her own hinderance (for she 
herself had two unmarried daughters, whose beauty was of 
a less striking order). 

The next day Lady Jane called on her brother-in-law, 
and pointed out to him that the time had come for Hope 
to be presented at court, and to assume her place in soci- 
ety. 4 4 If you won't take her about, we must," she said; 
and Mr. Lefroy assented with a sigh — the more willingly, 
perhaps, because he had just returned with a rather graver 
face than usual from consulting his doctor. 

44 It must come some day, I suppose," he remarked. 44 It 
is a pity. Hope is perfect as she is, and you will do your 
best to spoil her among you. Still, I suppose it would have 
had to come some day. I wish I knew how it would end!" 

44 1 dare say I can tell you," his sister-in-law replied, 
laughing a little; 44 it will end in the natural way." 

What Lady Jane considered natural was that the girl 
should ere long become engaged to some unexceptionable 
person, chosen for her by her thoughtful relatives; but per- 
haps it was even more natural that at Hope's first ball she 
should be sitting in a retired corner with an attractive young 
Guardsman, and communicating to him the greater part of 
the personal history set forth above. 

Her auditor appeared to take a lively interest in all that 
she told him. He was a young man with many connec- 
tions and more friends; from the day on which he was ga- 
zetted to his battalion society of every sort and kind had 
been open to him, and, as he himself would have said, he 
44 knew his way about pretty well." If he had not studied 
feminine nature very exhaustively, he had at any rate had 
sufficient opportunities of doing so, and not long before 
this time he had gravely confided to a brother officer, as 
the result of his observation, that one woman was uncom- 
monly like another. However, he had never met any one 
quite like Miss Lefroy before; and it is perfectly possible 
that, even if she had not happened to be the prettiest girl 


A BACHELORS BLTODEK. 


13 


in the room, he would have been captivated by her manner, 
which had the kind of self-possession that children have 
before they grow old enough to be shy, besides an amusing 
little touch of condescension every now and then, due, no 
doubt, to the circumstance that Miss Lefroy had hitherto 
been thrown more amongst social inferiors than amongst 
equals. 

“ Are you fond of shooting?” she asked. “ If you are, 
you might run down to Helston some time in the autumn 
and pay us a visit. ” 

The young man passed his hand across his lips to smooth 
away a smile. 

“You are very kind,” he answered gravely; “but 
hadn't I, perhaps, better wait until Mr. Lefroy asks me?” 

“ You would have to wait a long time, X am afraid. It 
very seldom occurs to my father to invite people to stay; 
although when they come he is generally the better for it, I 
think. Probably, if there was anybody else in the house, 
he would hardly notice whether you were there or not. And 
I should like you to see Helston. '' 

“ I should like to see it very much. It must be rather 
an odd sort of place in some ways. ” 

“ Odd? What do you mean?” 

“ Well, it seems to produce things that don't generally 
grow in the country. Young ladies, for instance, who 
dance as beautifully as if they had been doing nothing else 
all their liyes, and who can snub a humble acquaintance 
without any difficulty.” 

“ Is that because I said my father wouldn't notice you? 
I should not have supposed that you would mind; but per- 
haps you are not so humble as you make yourself out. Un- 
fortunately, my father is rather absent-minded, and there 
is only one way of attracting his attention that I know of 
— have you ever painted a picture?” 

“ Can't say that I ever have; but I dare say I might 
manage it if 1 tried. ” 

“ Oh, you think so? Decidedly humility is not one of 
your failings. Now I, who have been patiently learning t 
draw and paint ever since I could hold a brush or a pen 
never ventured to submit a composition of my own tc 
father until about a month ago. And how do you sup 
he received it?'' 

“ With tears of joy I should think.” 


14 A bachelor's blunder. 

44 No; if he had shed tears they would not have been 
tears of that kind, I am afraid. He screwed up his eyes 
and stroked his chin, and looked very much inclined to 
run away; and then he said: 4 My dear, I can see that you 
have taken great pains over this. ' Further than that he 
couldn't go, much as he would have liked to go further. It 
only shows — " 

44 That Mr. Lefroy ought to be deprived of his daughter 
until he learns to appreciate her," broke in a voice from 
the background, at the sound of which the girl turned 
round with a little cry of pleasure. 

44 You at a ball!" she exclaimed. 44 After this nothing 
will ever surprise me again." 

The intruder advanced, holding out a long, lean, glove- 
less hand. His clothes hung loosely upon a massive frame; 
his shirt-front was crumpled; the white tie, knotted round 
his throat, looked more like a huge pocket-handkerchief 
than anything else; and these trifles, quite as much as a cer- 
tain rugged grandeur about his square head with its griz- 
zled beard and its mane flung back from the brow, made 
him a conspicuous figure among that crowd of men who, 
old and young alike, were turned out after an identically 
neat pattern. 

44 Why may I not have a treat every now and then, like 
other people?" he asked, smiling. 4 4 When we parted. Miss 
Hope, I should have said that nothing was more unlikely 
than that our next meeting should take place in a ball- 
room; yet here we both are, you see. The difference be- 
tween us is that you take to it as a duckling takes to water, 
whereas I am altogether out of my element. The differ- 
ence between age and youth, in short." 

Hope laughed. 44 Are you not enjoying yourself?." she 
asked. 

44 Do I look as if I were enjoying myself? Still, I have 
enjoyed watching you. It's a new character, and I can't 
deny that it's a becoming one, though I think I like the 
other better. Honestly now, which do you prefer, dancing 

painting?" 

Will you wither me with scorn if I say dancing?" 

Not I! I only wish I were of an age to agree with you. 
•e away. Miss Hope, there's a time for all things. Only 
x Heaven and your father that you have a pursuit to 
back upon. Sooner or later, the day comes when we 


A bachelor's blunder. 


15 


all need that. Work and tobacco have been my two best 
friends in life. I shouldn't like to see yoii with a pipe in 
your mouth; but I shall always be glad to see you stand- 
ing before an easel. " 

‘ c You think I have the makings of an artist in me, 
then?" asked the girl, with some eagerness. 

“ That is not the question," returned the other, and 
strode away unceremoniously. 

“ Who is that very — abrupt old party?" inquired the 
Guardsman. 

“ Don't you know?" exclaimed Hope. “ Why, that is 
Mr. Tristram." 

“ The thought of my ignorance makes me blush all over; 
but I am obliged to confess that I am not much the wiser." 

“ Oh, you must be! Surely you must have heard of Tris- 
tram, the great artist 

“ Oh, that Tristram! Yes; I've heard of him, of course; 
seen his pictures too. They're a little beyond me, I think, 
though I've no doubt they are magnificent, as everybody 
says so. I never met him before; he doesn't look exactly 
the kind of person whom one would be likely to meet, does 
he?" 

“ That would depend upon what company you keep, I 
suppose. He is the kind of person who knows every one 
that is worth knowing." 

“ So much for an unlucky beggar whom he doesn't know! 
Lady Jane, I wish you would come and take my part; I'm 
catching it like anything, because I'm not on terms of in- 
timacy with all the Royal Academicians." 

But Lady . Jane, who had just borne down upon the 
couple, did not seem at all disposed to take the part of this 
impecunious and rather forward young man. She ignored 
his appeal, and said to her niece, with some little severity 
of tone: “ My dear Hope, I couldn't think what had be- 
come of you! We are going home now." 

Captain Cunningham, however, was not the man to let 
himself be so summarily disposed of. He accompanied 
the ladies down-stairs, helped Miss Lefroy into the car- 
riage, stood for a few minutes talking to her after she was 
seated, and took care to find out what her engagements for 
the next day were before he bade her good-night. 

Half an hour later, when Hope was in her bedroom, she 
noticed that a strip of white rihhnn which she had attached 


16 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


to the handle of her fan was missing; and among other 
memory-pictures which passed before her drowsy eyes ere 
they closed, was a vision of a 3 r omig man in evening dress 
standing in the open door- way of a brilliantly lighted house, 
and thrusting something — could it be a scrap of white rib- 
bon? — into the pocket of his coat. The vision, it may be 
assumed, was not wholly displeasing to her; for she fell 
asleep with a smile upon her lips. Honi soit qu mal y 
pense ! She saw no reason to grudge the poor youth such 
a trifle if he valued it, being as yet ignorant of the impor- 
tant part that ribbons play in the affairs of this world : of 
how great men will bribe and scheme to get a blue one, and 
victorious generals swell with satisfaction when they are 
permitted to hang a red one round their necks, and how 
young Guardsmen with a few hundreds a year can not pos- 
sibly be entitled to ribbons of any color — or even of no 
color, such as white ones. 


CHAPTER II. 

BAD NEWS. 

Mr. Montague Lefroy, M.P., was a man against whom 
no one had ever been found cross-grained enough to say a 
word. It is not necessary to be great, wise, witty, or mu- 
nificent in order to gain the love of your fellow-creatures, 
whose demands, after all, are moderate enough, and who 
ask little more of you than that you shall have a pleasant 
face, decent manners, and wine which may be swallowed 
without danger to the health of the swallower. All these 
titles to esteem Mr. Montague Lefroy possessed, besides a 
very nice house in Eaton Square, where guests were ever 
welcome, and a still nicer house in the midland counties, 
with excellent shooting attached, and a sufficiency of hunt- 
ing within easy distance to satisfy most people. 

It is not every younger son who can boast of such ad- 
vantages; but a poor Lefroy would have been a contradic- 
tion in terms. This one had inherited a good round fort- 
une, and many years back his elder brother had handed over 
to him for his sole use and behoof the house and estate of 
Southcote, which, though humble by comparison with the 
grandeurs of Helston Abbey, was yet a large enough place 
to content any unambitious country gentleman. Mr. 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


17 


Montague Lefroy was not ambitious, and was perfectly con- 
tented. He had always been able to gratify his tastes and 
at the same time to live within his income. In early life 
he had gone in for racing in a modest way, but had aban- 
doned this form of amusement as his family grew up. He 
had a yacht; but, for reasons of which he made no secret, 
he seldom took her out of the Solent. From the age of 
four-and-twentyhehad sat uninterruptedly for the southern 
divison of his county, and took a good-humored, amateur- 
ish sort of interest in politics. It is, perhaps, hardly neces- 
sary to say that he was a Conservative; yet he could make 
allowance for the notions of other men. Radicalism rather 
amused than alarmed him. He had, as he said, “ gone 
into the whole matter 33 at the commencement of his career 
and had formed opinions which he had never since seen 
reason to change. Doubtless the world was far from per- 
fect, and there were social problems and anomalies which 
were apt at first to unsettle the mind of the earnest in- 
quirer; but, when once you had realized that these things 
existed by the will of Heaven, it was all plain sailing. If 
there was anything so clear as to need no demonstration, it 
was that in all communities there must be rich and poor: it 
had been so from the beginning; to all appearance it would 
be so up to the end. Therefore let every man strive to do 
his duty in that state of life unto which it had pleased God 
to call him, and cease to repine because he was not some- 
body else. 

The voice of this optimistic legislator was not often heard 
at St. Stephens’s; but when he did speak it was in an easy, 
colloquial manner which invariably charmed and tickled his 
audience. For a quarter of a century or more he had 
watched with benign equanimity the forward march of 
Democracy, voting against it, of course, but not conceiving 
that the Constitution was in any immediate peril; the pass- 
ing of Mr. Gladstone’s Irish Land Act was perhaps the only 
thing that had ever given him a serious shock. Against it 
he had felt bound to deliver one of the few speeches with 
which he is credited in the pages of Hansard. Let us make 
no mistake, he said; this was nothing less than a revolu- 
tionary measure, lie candidly confessed that he did not 
know much about Ireland himself; had only been there 
once; was glad to say that he owned no land there, and was 
willing tc accept provisionally the statements of honorable 


18 


A bachelor's blunder. 


members who claimed to be better informed. What he did 
know was that the rights of property must be considered as 
the foundation-stone of the social edifice; and the House 
might take his word for it that, when once they began chip- 
ping and hammering at that, they would have the whole 
blessed building down about their ears sooner than they ex- 
pected. 

There was a good deal of laughter at this, and somebody 
wished to know whether the expression 44 blessed building " 
was Parliamentary. The Speaker ruled *that it was; and 
Mr. Lefroy, having said his say and done his duty to the 
country, crossed his legs and went to sleep. A subservient 
majority, as we know, passed the Act, and the consequences 
must be upon their own heads. They can not at any future 
date plead that Mr. Montague Lefroy did not warn them of 
what they were about. 

Hope was fond of her uncle, who also was fond of her — 
as indeed he W'as of most people. When she came down- 
stairs on the morning after the ball she found him alone at 
the breakfast-table, and he looked up from his newspaper 
to say: 

44 See what it is to have country habits! I do not sup- 
pose your aunt and the girls will put in an appearance for 
another hour. W ell, I hope you enjoyed yourself last night ? " 

44 Immensely!" answered Hope with fervor. 

44 As much as all that? Don't overdo it, you know. I 
mean, enjoy yourself as much as you please; only, if I 
were you, I would try to enjoy myself with a rather larger 
number of people. Variety is salutary." 

‘ 4 When one is dancing, one can only talk to one's part- 
ner." 

44 Yes; but one need not talk to the same partner 
throughout the evening. Especially if his name happens 
to be Cunningham." 

44 Is there anything against Captain Cunningham, Uncle 
Montague?" 

44 Well, I believe he is rather a flirtatious young gentle- 
man." 

44 He didn't flirt with me," said Hope calmly. 

44 Didn’t he? I wonder what you define as flirtation at 
Helston! Besides, he hasn't a sixpence." 

44 Poor fellow!" 

44 Oh, poor fellow as much as you like; but you had betn 


a bachelor's blunder. 


19 


ter not become too friendly with him. In point of fact, ” 
added Mr. Lefroy, confidentially, “ I expect you’ll get into 
a row with your aunt if you do.” 

Hope did not care to pursue the subject. “Is there 
anything in the 4 Times ’ this morning?” she asked. 

“ Not much. Another big bank gone smash, I see; the 
Ban k of Central England. The paper says lots of people • 
are hit by it — people whom one knows, I mean. How any 
man can be such a lunatic as to hold shares in an unlimited 
concern passes my comprehension. I recollect Charles 
speaking to me about it; I hope to goodness he isn’t a 
shareholder.” 

“ Oh, dear, no!” answered Hope. “Fancy papa run- 
ning any risks! He wouldn’t sleep quietly if he was get- 
ting more than four per cent, for any investment. ” 

“I suppose not. Well, I must be off. Bemember my 
little hint, there’s a good girl. After all, one man does to 
dance with pretty nearly as well as another, and it isn’t 
worth while to vex your aunt. ” 

This Mr. Lefroy said both because he had long ago be- 
come personally convinced that it was never worth while 
to vex Lady Jane/'and because he had discovered that his 
niece was fond of taking her own way. It will be perceived 
that he was not quite the most skillful diplomatist in the 
world. Hope made no rejoinder; but when he had left the 
room she said to herself that, whatever her future conduct 
with regard to Captain Cunningham might be, it certainly 
would not be influenced by fear of her aunt’s displeasure. 

Her cousins, Alice and Gertrude, joined her presently. 
They were pleasant, good-humored girls, having inherited 
the paternal disposition; they had neat figures, and were 
rather pretty than otherwise, though without much to 
boast of in the wav of feature. Although one of them was 
a year, and the other two years, older than Hope, they had 
always entertained a high respect for her — not only because 
she was an heiress, and to ail intents and purposes her own 
mistress, bub because, as they frankly admitted, she did 
everything better than they did; talked better, played bet- 
ter, and danced better, besides possessing an artistic talent 
which they looked upon as prodigious. In all matters re- 
lating to dress they had a blind faith in her taste, of which 
they availed themselves whenever they could. They pro- 
posed to avail themselves of it now. 


20 


a bachelor's blunder. 


“Hope/' said Gertrude, “wouldn't you like to come 
with me and help me to choose a hat? As sure as I attempt 
to select anything for myself that I think particularly be- 
coming, so surely is the result enough to make angels 
weep. I can't conceive why things should look so very 
different in the shop from what they do when they are sent 
home. " 

“ Oh, and Hope," put in Alice, “ would you very much 
mind coming on to the dress-maker's afterward? She would 
never dare to- snub you as she does me, and I know exactly 
what I want, if I could only get her to listen. We can 
have the carriage, because mamma changed her mind after 
she had ordered it, and said she wouldn't go out this 
morning. " 

A woman who dislikes shopping may be an admirable 
person; but in the eyes of the impartial observer there is 
apt to be slight primd facie case against her, as there is 
against a man who dislikes tobacco. Hope answered, quite 
truthfully, that she would be delighted to accompany her 
cousins. Probably, also, she was not unwilling to avoid 
the chance of a private interview with her aunt, for which, 
on account of some reason or other that she did not care 
to examine too closely, she felt disinclined at that especial 
moment. One can not give reasons for all one's feelings; 
nor, as a general thing, is it in . the least desirable that one 
should. Hope, as she was driven in an open carriage from 
shop to shop, through the sunny, smoky mist which gives 
the atmosphere of London a peculiar golden tinge in fair 
weather, was conscious of being in high spirits— in higher 
spirits, it might be, than there was anything to warrant — 
but, like a true philosopher, she accepted the pleasant fact, 
and did not attempt to pry into its cause. 

What was certain was that the appearance of the entire 
city had marvelously changed for the better. She could 
hardly believe that these were the dull, ugly streets along 
which her father had been wont to hurry her during their 
flying visits to thfe metropolis, and where the last thing that 
one would ever have expected would have been to recognize 
an acquaintance among the crowd of uninteresting people 
that thronged them. They wore a cheerful, animated 
aspect now, and were quite full of friendly faces. Several 
young gentlemen with high shirt collars and bouquets in 
their button-holes raised their hats to the three girls as the 


A bachelor's blunder. 


21 


carriage passed; ladies in other carriages nodded and smiled; 
everything and everybody seemed to be proclaiming that it 
was the season, that all the world was in town, that Miss 
Lefroy had been to a ball last night, and that she was go- 
ing to another to-night. Near Buckingham Palace they 
met a detachment of the Guards, with fifes and drums, and 
an officer, the point of whose nose could be discerned be- 
neath his bearskin. One of the girls exclaimed : “Surely 
that is Captain Cunningham!" And though it was not 
Captain Cunningham — for the nose turned up ridiculously, 
and was quite unlike his— still it might have been; and 
there was something very exhilarating in the discovery that, 
after all, one may sometimes chance upon an acquaintance 
in London without previous appointment. Hope had al- 
ways hitherto supposed that it was far too huge a place for 
that. 

It was past two o'clock before they were back in Eaton 
Square, and as they got out of the carriage Alice remarked 
that she believed some people were coming to luncheon; it 
appeared that people dropped into luncheon almost every 
day in that house. Hope found them in the drawing-room 
when she went down-stairs after changing her dress. 

To the last day in her life she will remember those peo- 
ple, and their names, and the clothes that they wore, and 
how they looked: the long, cool room darkened by sun- 
blinds; the blaze of flowers in the windows; Lady Jane 
stifling a yawn; the little fat man, bubbling over with 
laughter, who was telling a story about somebody who had 
been chucked over his horse's head in Rotten Row; and 
then the door opening suddenly and her Uncle Montague 
coming in, with a pale, grave face. Instantly she felt that 
some calamity had befallen her. When her uncle stepped 
hastily to her side and whispered: 44 My dear, will you come 
into the next room with me for a minuter" it was as if all 
this had occurred at some previous time; the little dark 
library into which he led her had a familiar look, though 
she had never entered the room before; she seemed to know 
exactly what his next words would be. 

4 4 Hope, my dear, can you be ready to go home with me 
in half an hour? Your father has been taken ill." 

44 1 am ready now," she answered, quite quietly. 

Lady Jane had followed them; the two old people were 
looking at her with kindly, distressed faces. They were 


22 


A bachelor's blunder. 


urging her to do something: what was it? To eat? She 
smiled a little, and answered that she was not hungry; she 
would rather start at once. 

“ No, no; plenty of time," her uncle said. 4 4 If we start 
in half an hour we shall catch the 3 :20, and your maid can 
follow with your things by a later train. Run down-stairs 
now and get some luncheon; or tell them to bring it up to 
you if you would rather have it in your own room. I can't 
tell you anything; I have no particulars — only a telegram, " 
he added, hurriedly. 

Hope understood that he was anxious to get rid of her; 
so she went away without a word. 

As soon as the door had closed Lady Jane asked: 44 What 
is it, Montague? Anything very serious?" 

Her husband handed her a telegram. 44 From the but- 
ler," he said. 

~ 4 4 Good Heaven! how dreadfully sudden!" exclaimed 
Lady Jane, dropping her eyeglasses and the telegram, 
which last consisted of only the following five words: 44 Mr. 
Lefroy died this morning." 

The heir of Helston Abbey and its dependencies blew his 
nose. To do him justice, he was not thinking about his 
inheritance at that moment, and had never at any time 
been eager to enter upon it. 44 Poor Charles! poor old fel- 
low!" he said. 44 The last time I saw him he told me his 
heart was all wrong, but I never expected this. Somehow, 
one never does expect — confound it all! Jane, I can't tell 
that poor girl. Wouldn't— couldn't you. ?" he added, ap- 
pealingly. 

Lady Jane shrunk back. 44 Surely it would be better to 
get her home first. I can go down to-morrow, if you wish. " 

44 Only, of course, she will have to be told to-night." 

The truth was that neither of these worthy people had 
any taste for discharging painful duties. Life had been 
made very easy for them, and on the rare occasions when 
anything unpleasant had to be done, each generally tried to 
get behind the other. This system of tactics, if persisted 
in, is tolerably sure to bring about a collision between the 
maneuverers, and thus it was that Mr. Montague Lefroy, who 
abhorred collisions, commonly found himself in the post of 
honor. He accepted it now without much protestation; 
indeed, he could not but admit that there was reason in 
what Lady Jane urged, and that it would be wiser to get 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


23 


the journey over before allowing his nieee to guess the full 
extent of her misfortune. The only question was whether 
the journey could possibly be got oyer without an explana- 
tion of some kind. 

•Happily for him, it was so — or nearly so. On taking his 
seat in the railway carriage he hid himself behind a news- 
paper, round the corner of which he peered cautiously 
from time to time at Hope, who, seated opposite to him 
with her chin upon her hand, was gazing abstractedly out 
of the window. Her apathy surprised him more than it 
need have done. 

In truth, the girl had little confidence in her unde. She 
knew that whatever the news might be he would make the 
best of it; perhaps also, at the bottom of her heart, there 
was an unacknowledged fear which kept her silent. Never- 
theless, when the distance was about half accomplished, she 
made an effort and said: 

‘‘ May I see the telegram. Uncle Montague?” 

“ The telegram? Dear me! I’m afraid I left it behind!” 
answered Mr. Lefroy, glad to be able to say so truthfully. 

“ What were the words?” 

“I — I don’t exactly recollect,” replied her uncle, not 
quite so truthfully this time. 

Hope sighed and made no further inquiries: her one wish 
was to reach home. But when at length they did reach 
Helston Abbey, when they had driven across the park, in 
sight of the great house to which she dared not lift her 
eyes, and when the old butler came down the steps to meet 
them, with his face twitching and quivering — then she 
knew that home was home no longer, and that that wish 
of hers could never be fulfilled. 


CHAPTER III. 

MORE BAD NEWS. 

The word “ never ” is scarcely understood by any of us, 
so completely are we the slaves of time; and perhaps it is 
even more incomprehensible to the young than to their 
elders. The blow which had fallen so suddenly upon Hope 
Lefroy was so far easier to bear that it stunned her as it 
fell, and, for twenty-four hours at least, rendered her in- 
capable of really feeling anything. Nevertheless, she had 


24 


a bachelor's blunder. 


all her wits about her. She knew quite well that her father 
was dead; she had seen his body lying, stiff and silent, in 
what had once been his bedroom, and had kissed the cold 
forehead. She had heard the sobbing servants relate how 
it had all happened; how the newspaper had been taken up 
to the study, as usual, directly it had arrived; how, about 
five minutes afterward, Mr. Goodwin (the butler) had fan- 
cied he heard a fall, and, hurrying upstairs, had found his 
master lying, face downward, on the ground; how a groom 
had been dispatched immediately for the doctor, who, on 
his arrival, had pronounced death to have been instantane- 
ous — “ his very words. Miss Hope." All this she had 
listened to without a tear; the only thought that made her 
shudder for a moment was that while her father had been 
lying dead she had been laughing and chattering with her 
cousins in the London streets, and saying to herself what a 
pleasant thing life was. 

Her uncle was amazed at her calmness. He patted her 
on the shoulder and called her a brave girl, not knowing 
very well what to say by way of comfort to one who seemed 
so little in need of being comforted. When he remarked, 
“ We will get your aunt and the girls down; you mustn't 
be left all by yourself, you know," she answered, quickly: 
“ Oh, please don't! it would be such a pity to interfere 
with all their amusement," and then gave a little nervous 
laugh. Of course there could be no more amusement for 
them that season. 

“ T don't know what to make of her," the worthy man 
said to his wife when she arrived; “ she's as cold as a block 
of ice. That will never do; she'll be getting a brain-fever 
or something, if we don't mind. You must manage to 
make her cry somehow." 

But time and nature accomplished what might, perhaps, 
have proved beyond Lady Jane's powers. The girl's 
numbed senses woke with throbbings of pain which in- 
creased every hour; she began to realize her desolation, 
and if tears were what was wanted to preserve her from an 
illness she was soon safe. Her aunt and cousins were as 
kind and sympathetic as it was possible for them to be; but 
it was not possible for them to sympathize in any true 
sense. They had never really known the dead man, nor 
could they know the extent of her loss. All incidents of 
their long companionship came back to her; she re mem- 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


25 


bered, as every one does at such times, a hundred trifling 
instances of his thought for her; he had not been specially 
demonstrative, it was not his nature to be so, but every 
now and then he had spoken a tender word or two which 
had been all the more valued for their rarity. She had 
never had a plan, or a pleasure, or an anxiety, with which 
he had not been connected, and now he was gone and ihe 
world was empty. All day long a song of Shelley's, which 
he had been fond of and had often made her sing to him, 
kept ringing in her head: “ Death is here, death is there " 
— every one knows the lines: 

“ All things that we love and cherish, 

Like ourselves, must fade and perish. 

Such is our rude mortal lot, 

Love itself would, did they not.” 

Perhaps the significance of the last words escaped her; 
at any rate, she might be permitted to doubt their truth. 
As she sat alone, with her hands before her, she said to 
herself again and again that she could never be happy any 
more; she was too young to know that sorrow is as much 
doomed to fade as all other things. 

Like is cured by like; there is no more certain remedy 
for trouble than a second dose of the same upon the top of 
the first. The treatment may not be an agreeable one, 
but it is generally found bracing by those who have any 
constitution in them to be braced or any courage to be 
roused. Of courage Hope Lefroy had always had plenty, 
and she was soon to discover that she would have need of 
all that she possessed. One day, about a week after the 
funeral, her maid came in to say: 

“ If you please, mTn, could Mrs. Mills see you before 
she leaves? She's going away this afternoon." 

Hope was sitting in the spacious, sunny room which she 
had been wont to use as a studio. Her painting materials 
lay where she had left them before her departure for Lon- 
don; the unfinished picture upon which she had been en- 
gaged stood upon its easel, covered with a cloth; she had 
dragged an arm-chair into the bay-window, where of late 
she had sat, hour after hour, gazmg idly at the flowers in 
the garden beneath, which went on blooming for their new 
master as they had for the old, and had no consolation to 
offer her. Only once since her return had she gone down- 
stairs, and that had been to follow her father's body to the 


26 


a bachelor's blunder. 


grave. Relations, connections, and friends had assembled 
in large numbers to pay the last tribute of respect to the 
late owner of Helston Abbey; some had spent a night in 
the house, and a few had penetrated into Hope's room to 
take her by the hand and utter the halting commonplaces 
which must be uttered at such times. Every day her aunt 
or one of her cousins came and sat with her for an hour or 
so, and she managed to talk cheerfully to them about this, 
that, and the other, but she had not yet felt able to take 
her place in the dining-room, nor had any one pressed her 
to do so. 

“ Mills going away!" she said, with a bewildered look. 
l( Why is she going away?" 

“ Well, m'm," answered the maid, looking down, “ she 
says she ought to be with her husband now." 

Hope sighed. Of course there must be changes, and of 
course old faces must vanish. Mills was the first to go; 
others must follow, she herself must go soon, she sup- 
posed. Certainly it was time that she began to think 
about these things. “ Ask Mills to come in," she said. 

Shortly after Hope's birth Mills bad been engaged as 
nurse, and she had never left Helston since. After her 
services were no longer required she had been retained at 
the child's earnest entreaty — in what capacity it would be 
difficult to say. She was supposed to be generally useful, 
and perhaps she was so; in any case, a servant more or less 
could make little difference in so large an establishment. 

Somewhat late in life Mills had taken it into her head to 
marry the second coachman, a man considerably her junior; 
but her matrimonial fetters had not weighed heavily upon 
her. When her husband, by way of bettering himself, had 
taken service with a London doctor in a large practice, she 
had never dreamed of accompanying him to his new home. 
Time enough for that, she said, when Miss Hope was mar- 
ried. So long as Miss Hope was Miss Hope she meant to 
remain with her. But now, it seemed, she had changed 
her mind. She came in presently — a tall, gaunt woman, 
past middle age, with a face of wavering outline, like a 
potato, and features which suggested that the second coach- 
man had been moved to espouse their owner by some other 
incentive than love. Her nose turned up, the corners of 
her mouth turned down, and, to complete the list of her 
charms, she had a pair of goggle- eyes, which j ust now were 


A bachelor’s blunder. 27 

swollen with recent weeping. Yet her face, like many 
other plain faces, was not disagreeable to look at, its ex- 
pression being one of quiet, honest kindliness. Her late 
master had been wont to say of her that she was as ugly as 
a bull-dog and as faithful. 

“ Sit down. Mills,” said Hope. “ So you are going to 
leave me, I hear. ” 

“Ah, Miss Hope,” answered the woman, lowering her 
angular person stiffly to the edge of a chair and sighing, 
“ it isn’t for my own pleasure that I leave you. Lord 
knows! But I don’t feel it’s right for me to be eating Mr. 
Montague’s bread: and George writes me that he’s took the 
house and got the furnitur’ in; on’y he can’t do nothink 
about lodgers till I come, he says. So I thought to myself, 
* Sooner or later it has got to be done, and the sooner the 
better, may be,’ I thought.” And she heaved another 
prodigious sigh. 

“ Do you mean that you are going to keep lodgings in 
London, and be worried from morning to night by horrid, 
dirty servants, and by people who will accuse you of steal- 
ing the sugar, and will smoke in the drawing-room, and 
make themselves obnoxious in all sorts of ways? You 
won’t like it, Mills.” 

“ I dare say not. Miss Hope.” 

“ Then why do you do it? Why don’t yoirstay with me?” 

“ Ah, my dear, I can’t do that. I used sometimes to 
think I’d no business stopping on here, taking my wages 
and not earning my keep, even when — when — things was 
different. But now — ” And Mills sighed for the third 
time. 

“ Don’t sigh like that, you silly old Mills; you make 
quite a draught in the room. Staying with me doesn’t 
mean staying at Helston. We must both look out for a 
new home soon; but I should like to keep you with me. 
And I shall want a coachman, I suppose. Couldn’t we en- 
tice George away from the doctor?” 

Mills gasped, made a hideous grimace, and then, to 
Hope’s consternation, burst into tears. “ Oh dear, oh 
dear!” she sobbed, “don’t talk like that, child; you’ll 
break my heart! To think that your uncle should turn you 
out of your own house! — for it is your house, as I’ll main- 
tain in the face of all the judges and juries in the land. 
Laws indeed! Bother their laws! Call this a free country, 


28 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


and then tell me that a father mustn't leave his own prop- 
erty to his own child! Mr. Montague didn't ought to take 
the place, and I don't care who hears me say so." 

“ I am afraid he can't help it. Mills," answered Hope, 
smiling. “ It is no more his to give away than it was poor 
papa's." 

“ Then he ought to make it up to you in money," said 
Mills, drying her eyes. “ It can't be right that he should 
be so rich, whilst you — you — " 

“ As far as that goes, I am rich, too," Hope remarked. 

Mills appeared to be on the brink of another outburst of 
sobbing; but she restrained herself, and, getting up, 
walked to the window. 

“ My dear," she said, after a pause, “if you were as 
rich as Creases you couldn't live all by yourself. Helston 
must be your home till you marry; and glad and happy 
your uncle and aunt will be able to keep you. I wdl say 
for them that I believe they'll be proud to keep you, and 
let you have your old rooms and your pianner and your 
horses and all, same as you've always been accustomed to. 
But I can't ask them to keep me, nor yet I wouldn't ask 
them. Let alone that George is a young man and wants 
looking after. You'll come and see me sometimes when 
you're in London, won't you, my dear?" she added. 

“ Of course I will, if you insist upon living in London," 
said Hope; and after a little more conversation, and some 
shedding of tears on both sides. Mills prepared to depart. 

Hope wanted to give her ten pounds as a small parting 
gift; but this the old woman would not hear of. “ No, 
child, no," she said; “ keep your money and take care of 
it; it's — it's always a useful thing, and none of us knows 
how soon we may need ten pounds." 

This oracular speech, and indeed the woman's whole 
manner throughout the interview, raised some suspicions 
in Hope's mind. What if she should prove to be less rich 
than she had supposed herself? It seemed impossible that 
she should be poor; yet if Mills had meant anything at all 
she must have meant that. Wealth had always been to 
Hope Lef roy what health is to those who have never known 
a day's illness; it was a blessing for which she was thank- 
ful in a general way, but which she hardly appreciated at 
its full value, since she was quite unable to imagine what 
life would be like without it. She was not at all alarmed 


a baohelor’s blunder. 


20 


by her old nurse V hints, only disturbed and a little curi- 
ous. She determined to lose no time in finding out from 
her uncle what her position was, and therefore made it 
known that she would be }3resent at luncheon that day. 

She did not notice a brief moment of embarrassment 
which marked her entrance into the dining-room. Never 
having been accustomed to take either the head or the foot 
of the table, she made at once for her usual place, which 
happened to be on Mr. Lefroy’s right hand, thereby un- 
consciously earning the approval of Lady Jane, whose hor- 
ror of unpleasant situations was equaled only by her dis- 
like for those who created them. But, despite this happy 
commencement, the conversation languished wofully. To 
be afflicted is to be an affliction to one’s neighbors, and 
Hope’s company would have been cheerfully dispensed with 
by every one present; especially by Mr. Lefroy, who guessed 
only* too well what had brought her among them, and fore- 
saw that a bad quarter of an hour was in store for him. 

His fears were confirmed when his niece lingered after 
the others had left the room, and intercepted a futile at- 
tempt at escape on his own part. “ Are you busy. Uncle 
Montague?” she asked. 4 4 If you are not, I should like to 
have a little talk with you.” 

Mr. Lefroy admitted that he was not busy — at least, not 
very busy; but gave it as his opinion that a brisk walk in 
the fresh air was a much better thing for people who had 
been shut up ten days in the house than a dry talk about 
business matters. 

“ Perhaps 1 will take the walk afterward to counteract 
the etfects of the talk,” Hope replied. “ I won’t keep you 
long. Uncle Montague; I only wanted to ask you how 
much money I shall have?” 

“ Oh, well, you know, one can’t answer questions like 
that all in a moment; there really is no hurry,” Mr. Lefroy 
was beginning; but Hope, who noticed the cloud that had 
come over his good-humored face, was not to be put off in 
that way. “ You need not be afraid of telling me the 
truth,” she said; “ I don’t expect it to be pleasant.” 

“Some confounded fool has been chattering to you!” 
exclaimed Mr. Lefroy suspiciously. 

“No; not a confounded fool; only poor old Mills. And 
she didn’t chatter; she merely sighed. Please, let me hear 
the worst.” 


30 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


Mr. Lefroy sighed almost as loudly as Mills had done. 

“ Very well, then,” he said desperately, “ let us get it 
over. It is the worst — quite the worst that you can imag- 
ine. Do you remember, on the morning of your poor fa- 
ther’s death, my mentioning to you that the Bank of Cen- 
tral England had failed?” 

“ I remember perfectly well,” answered Hope steadily. 
“ He was a shareholder, I suppose.” 

“ Yes; I am sorry to say that he was. Heaven only 
knows what can have tempted him — however, there’s no 
use in talking about that. The unhappy fact is that he 
did hold shares; and of course the estate is liable.” 

“ To a large amount?” 

“ It is impossible to say as yet,” Mr. Lefroy began, and 
then paused. “ I think you would rather that I spoke the 
plain truth,” he resumed, with somewhat of an effort; “ I 
am afraid that the claims made will swallow up the entire 
estate — every penny of it. ” 

Hope gave a little gasp; she had not anticipated such a 
catastrophe as this. 

“Will Hefeton have to be sold?” she asked, in a low 
voice. 

“ Helstonr Oh, no; they can’t touch the entailed prop- 
erty; and if they could, that wouldn’t affect you, my dear. 
But it seems certain now that the whole of your fortune 
will be lost. It’s a bad business,” he added, “ a dread- 
fully bad business, and I believe it would have killed your 
poor father if he could have foreseen it. No doubt, indeed, 
that was what killed him. ” 

“ Oh! — do you think so?” exclaimed Hope. 

“ Well, yes — the shock, you know. But in any case we 
could not have hoped to keep him with us much longer; he 
told me some time ago that the doctors had given him his 
. death-warrant. However, what I was going to say was 
that, bad as matters are, we must try to make the best of 
them. After all, when one looks the thing in the face, 
what does it amount to? Why, only that, instead of being 
an heiress, as you might have been, you are in the same po- 
sition as Alice and Gertrude. Some day, no doubt, you 
will all three marry; and if I know anything of Lady Jane, 
you will marry men who are able to give you the comforts 
that you are accustomed to. Until then your life won’t be 
an unhappy one, I hope. We can’t make up to you for 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


31 


the loss of your father; but as far as money goes — well, 
you know, we are not badly otf, and I don’t see why you 
need feel any difference. Everything will go on just as be- 
fore.” 

“ You are very kind, Uncle Montague,” answered Hope; 
“ but it is not possible that things should go on just as be- 
fore. If I have no money of my own. It seems to me that 
I ought to try and make some, and not be a burden to you.” 

“A burden!” exclaimed her uncle indignantly; “what 
do you take us for? Why, I owe more to my brother 
Charles than you could spend if you lived with me to the 
end of your days and went in for every kind of extrava- 
gance! How many years do you suppose I was at South- 
cote without paying a shilling of rent? Now, I’ll tell you 
what it is, Hope; if you ever want to make a speech which 
will vex and hurt me more than anything else that you 
could say, you will repeat the remark which you made just 
now. Please to understand, once for all, that you lay your- 
self under no sort of obligation to anybody by living here 
as you have been accustomed to live.” 

“ I should not mind being under an obligation to you. 
Uncle Montague,” answered Hope, with a faint smile; u it 
isn’t that.” , 

“ What is it, then?” 

“ I am not sure that I can explain; I must have time to 
think. Anyhow, I will gladly stay with you for the present, 
obligation or no obligation. ” 

“ You will stay with us until your wedding-day,” said 
Mr. Lefroy decisively. “ And now let us behave like sensi- 
ble people, and not worry ourselves with crying over spilled 
milk. Suppose we enter into an agreement never to refer 
to this subject again?” 

Hope did not see her way to making any such promise; 
but she was quite of her uncle’s mind as to the folly of cry- 
ing over spilled milk; the more so as lamentation over the 
loss of her fortune would have seemed to her something 
like a reflection upon her father’s memory. Upon the 
whole, Mr. Lefroy was very well satisfied with her reception 
of the bad news, and confided to his wife that night that 
Hope was a girl in a thousand. 

“ There was- no bother about making her understand the 
state of the ft/se; she took it in at once, and never so much 


32 


A BACHELOR S BLUNDER. 


ns gave a groan. The best thing that we can do for her 
now is to find her a suitable husband as soon as we can.” 

To which Lady Jane replied: “ That will not be quite 
such an easy matter as it would have been a week or two 
ago.” 


CHAPTEK IV. 

A FRIEND IN NEED. 

The bread of charity must always taste bitter, be the 
hand that bestows it never so generous, and it did not take 
Hope long to decide that the plan proposed by her uncle 
was one to which she never could consent. She might, 
and indeed must, accept his hospitality; she might even 
make Helston in some sense her home; but her pride, of 
which she had rather more than was quite desirable, revolt- 
ed against the idea of pensioned luxury. The law that 
bound her was the law to which all humanity is subject. 

“ I have no money, and therefore my first duty is to 
make some/’ she said to herself, as though that were the 
easiest thing in the world. 

The next question was, how was a young woman who 
had suddenly dropped from affluence to pauperism to set 
about supporting herself? — and the only answer that could 
be made upon the spur of the moment was a little disheart- 
ening. There seemed to be nothing for it but to go out as 
a governess or as a companion to an old lady, for neither 
of which employments could Hope feel that she had the 
smallest natural aptitude. But in the course of a few days 
her uncle made a communication to her which simplified 
matters greatly and caused her heart to leap with joy. 

“ Oh, by the way, Hope,” he said, joining her one morn- 
ing after breakfast in the garden, where she was pacing to 
and fro in grave meditation, “ I want to tell you that I ex- 
aggerated a little in saying that your poor father's estate 
would yield absolutely nothing. We have rescued a trifle. 
It is only a trifle, but such as it is I have invested it for 
you as your trustee, and it will bring you in about £250 a 
year.” 

The excellent man was telling a falsehood which any one 
with the least knowledge of business matters viust have de- 
tected at once. It was impossible that any-jWestment of 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


33 


the late Mr. Lefroy’s personal property could have been 
made so soon; nor was there a chance of ever so small a 
portion thereof being saved from the wreck; but he had 
confidence in his niece’s inexperience; and his confidence 
was not misplaced, for neither then nor at any subsequent 
time did Hope suspect that the six thousand pounds invest- 
ed in her name had come out of the pocket of her guardian 
and trustee. He had argued with himself that it would be 
necessary to make her an allowance of some kind, and that 
if she could be led to suppose that the said allowance was 
hers of right, much needless and painful discussion would 
be avoided. Had he foreseen in what light this unexpected 
windfall would be regarded by its recipient, it is probable 
that he would have stayed his hand; but where is the man 
wise enough to divine the queer notions that will get into 
girls’ minds? 

Hope’s notion, if a queer one, did not appear so to her. 
Her course was now clear, and she felt herself free- to utilize 
the one talent with which, as she believed, nature and edu- 
cation had endowed her — that of painting. It must be 
said for her that she was an amateur artist of far more 
than ordinary proficiency, and also that her expectations 
were strictly moderate. She had learned enough to know 
how much remained for her to learn, and she did not de- 
ceive herself into thinking that she would be able to sell 
her pictures for some time to come. What she did think 
was that, with the aid of her small fortune, she could begin 
to study in serious earnest, and after an hour or two of con- 
sideration her plan assumed definite shape. Upon £250 a 
year one could live. This she repeated to herself several 
times with decision, because in reality she was not quite 
certain of the fact. The place of her abode must, of 
course, be London; and a most fortunate thing it was that 
Mills’s lodgings would afford her a shelter to which nobody 
could take exception. As regarded the course of study to 
be pursued, she meant to put herself in the hands of Mr. 
Tristram, who, she knew, would befriend her and give her 
the best advice in his power. 

With that celebrated and eccentric man her relations 
were already those of intimacy. Her father, who had dis- 
covered Tristram’s genius long before it dawned upon the 
reluctant critics, had always delighted in his society, and 
would often rim up to London for no other purpose than to 


( 


34 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


spend an hour or so in his studio. Hope, as a child, used 
to take a mute part in their conversations, understanding 
very little of them, but gazing in fascination at the gigantic 
figure of the artist as he strode up and down the room, de- 
claiming, gesticulating, pouring torrents of scorn and in- 
vective upon some person or persons unknown, while her 
father, his hands folded upon the knob of his stick and his 
chin upon his hands, sat listening with a smile, and every 
now and then putting in a quiet word. One day Tristram 
became aware that his audience consisted not only of an 
elderly gentleman but also of a girl whose face was as nearly 
as possible perfect in outline, and whose wide-open eyes ex- 
pressed all sorts of things, hidden perhaps from the world 
at large, but perceptible to the artistic imagination. He 
came to a halt before her and stood with his hands in his 
pockets staring fixedly at her for a minute or two. Then 
in Ins abrupt way he said: “ Miss Lefroy, I am going to 
paint your picture.” 

Nobody making any objection, the picture was painted, 
and exhibited in the Royal Academy of the following year, 
where it attracted a good deal of notice. It could hardly 
be called a portrait: Tristram was not a pqr trait-pa inter. 
In the catalogue it was described as “ Hope: a portrait of 
Miss Lefroy;” and certainly nine tenths of those who ad- 
mired it saw in it rather a representation of the treasure 
which Alexander the Great is said to have reserved for him- 
self after dividing his possessions among his friends, than of 
Miss Lefroy, whoever she might be. But if not a portrait, 
it was at least a likeness and an admirable one; and the 
father of the model was considerably taken aback and a 
little annoyed when, on inquiring the price of the work, he 
was curtly informed that it was not for sale. “ I mean to 
keep it,” the artist said. “ I shall never paint anything 
better; and, besides, I have taken a fancy to your daugh- 
ter's face; it cheers me up when I have* a fit of the blues.” 

This was, perhaps, a somewhat cool proceeding; but 
Tristram was not a man who troubled himself to consider 
whether his proceedings were cool or not, and those who 
valued his friendship h^d to accept him as he was. Hope, 
liking the man, liked his peculiarities, and did not dream 
of being offended with him because he t sometimes spoke 
roughly to her, or because he smiled at the compositions 
which she ventured to submit to his notice. His smile, to 


A bachelor’s BLUNDER. oO 

be sure, was not a discouraging one. Without being loud 
in his praises, he admitted that she was making progress 
and that her drawing was fairly correct. “ Ah, Miss 
Hope, ” he said one day, “ what a pity it is that you will 
never have to work for your living!” The phrase recurred 
to her memory now that she was resolved to work for her 
living. 

Thus, by degrees, and by the pressure of other thoughts, 
Hope's great sorrow became more bearable to her; but al- 
though her intentions with regard to the future were now 
fixed, she took very good care to say nothing about them 
as yet to anybody. There would be very little use in her 
moving to London before the autumn, and none whatso- 
ever in divulging too soon a scheme which was certain to 
provoke opposition. So she kept her own counsel, sub- 
mitting herself outwardly to the wishes of her uncle and 
aunt, who did all that they could to render the change in 
her position as little evident to her as possible. They had 
every wish to be considerate, and when, in the month of 
August, they moved to Southcote for a few weeks, and she 
begged to be left behind at Helston, they yielded to her en- 
treaties, although Lady Jane did not quite like it. It may 
be that they would have been less amenable, had they* not 
wanted to ask a few friends down to stay, and felt that the 
presence of the orphan in her black crape might be rather 
a restraint upon the cheerfulness of the younger members 
of the family. 

That period of solitude and liberty Hope enjoyed so 
much that she more than once reproached herself for her 
good spirits. She worked at her painting with a new and 
professional interest, she rose early and wandered out across 
the park and along the grassy shooting-drives that inter- 
sected the woods; in the evening she usually went out for a 
ride, attended by the same sober old groom who had first 
taught her to sit upon her pony. She was free to come 
and go as she pleased; she had no one's convenience to 
consult but her own, and her own company did not weary 
her. But the return of “ the family,'' as the servants had 
already taken to calling the new inmates of Helston Abbey, 
had been announced for the middle of September, and 
punctually on the appointed day they arrived, bringing 
with them two or three of the guests whom they had been 
entertaining at Southcote. “ Only quite intimate friends, 


36 


A BACHELOR S BLUNDER. 


almost relations in fact,” Lady Jane whispered, after she 
had embraced her niece. “ Of course we would not ask 
any one else just now; but your uncle won't go out shoot- 
ing all by himself, and it is so bad for him to have no 
exercise. " 

Hope did not feel that the case was one which called for 
apologies. Being human, she could not quite enjoy seeing 
others in possession of what had until lately been to all 
intents and purposes hers; but the addition of a few some- 
what taciturn sportsmen to the party was no increase of her 
trial. Only one of them bad the good fortune to interest 
her; and perhaps she would not have noticed him had she 
not remembered to have seen his face at the one and only 
ball which she had attended, or was now likely to attend, 
in London. He was a tall, thin man, with sunburned face 
and hands and a long mustache; his frame was rather 
loosely put together, but he had the appearance of mus- 
cular strength and good condition; his voice was a pleasant 
one, notwithstanding a drawling intonation, which, com- 
bined with his habit of keeping his eyes half closed, con- 
veyed an impression of constitutional indolence; and his 
face, Hope thought, was pleasant, too, though certainly not 
handsome. She mentally set him down as middle-aged, 
and did not consider the definition an incorrect one wlftn 
she heard that he was just six-and-thirty. The girls, of 
whom she inquired his name, told her that he was Dick 
Herbert, “ a sort of cousin of mamma's,” and added that 
he was great fun ; but when asked in what way his funni- 
ness displayed itself, could only repeat their assertion, 
without supporting it by instances. 

‘^Everybody knows him and everybody likes him," they 
declared. “ He has lots of money, and he has never mar- 
ried and says he never will, which, of course, makes him 
the more interesting. He always does just as he likes, and 
says whatever comes into his head.'' 

This description, as Hope pointed out, seemed to apply 
to a person more funny than agreeable, but her cousins 
assured her that Dick was both. “ He is a dear old thing," 
they said. Alas! it is thus that maidens of twenty or under 
will speak of a man in the prime of life, and the truth is 
that Mr. * Herbert was getting a little gray about the 
temples. 

One evening after dinner, when the men came into the 


A bachelor's bluhder. 


37 


drawing-room, he steered straight for the sofa upon which 
Hope was sitting, and dropped down beside her. She 
thought he was going to say something, but apparently he 
had no such .intention, and after he had quietly contem- 
plated her from beneath his eyelashes for several minutes, 
she broke the silence byremarking: “You find Helston 
rather a dull place, I am afraid?" 

“I? Oh, no; the people are a little bit dull, some of 
them; but I shouldn't call the place so. Besides, I can go 
away when I’ve had enough of it. I alwa} r s do go away as 
soon as I begin to get bored anywhere. " 

“ And do you generally stay until then?" inquired Hope, 
with a smile. 

“Ho, because, as a rule, I have a pretty good lot of 
engagements from about this time of year onward. I'm 
rather a good shot, you see," he added, by way of explain- 
ing this circumstance. He relapsed into silence for a time, 
and then startled Hope a good deal by resuming : “ I say, 
shall you go on living here?" 

“ It would be natural that I should, would it not?" she 
answered, not being ready with any reply to so unexpected 
a question. 

He shook his head. “ Hot to you; some people wouldn't 
mind, of course. Still," he concluded, pensively, “ I don't 
see how you can very well do anything else. " 

He so evidently did not mean to be impertinent that 
Hope could not feel affronted. She took a long look at his 
face, which was an honest, friendly sort of face, and a 
strong inclination to divulge her project to him took pos- 
session of her. It was not that she wanted his advice, for 
her resolution was taken, but even the most independent of 
mortals like to be backed up sometimes, and it struck her 
that Mr. Herbert would probably back her up in this in- 
stance.. She could not, however, make a confidant of a 
man whom she scarcely knew, but she thought that per- 
haps she would do so at some future time if they became 
better acquainted. 

They did become better acquainted, and their acquaint- 
ance ripened with singular rapidity. Somehow or other 
Hope constantly found herself left in his company, and 
though he did not talk much, his manner encouraged her 
to talk a good deal, while his unceremonious ways set her 
at her ease. He treated her, she thought, much as a good- 


38 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


natured elder brother might have done; she was a thou- 
sand miles from suspecting that Lady Jane was designedly 
throwing her at the head of one of the most desirable bach- 
elors in England, or from perceiving the various stratagems 
by which that well-meaning woman was trying to effect her 
purpose. Mr. Herbert, who understood it all perfectly 
well, understood the girl’s innocence also; otherwise it is 
probable that his engagements would have called him away 
before he had been three days at Helston. 

A person who is disposed toward making confessions is 
seldom thwarted through lack of opportunity. It happened 
one afternoon that Mr. Herbert, who tired of partridge- 
shooting more easily than his host, was wending his way 
homeward with his gun under his arm, when he encountered 
Miss Lefroy at some distance from the house; and she, see- 
ing no reason why she should not turn and walk with him, 
consulted her own wishes in the matter. They conversed 
for some time upon various unimportant topic-— or rather, 
Hope conversed while her companion listened — then, apro- 
pos of nothing at all, he said : 

4 4 Do you know. Miss Lefroy, I feel rather bothered about 
your” 

44 In what way?” Hope asked. 

44 The outlook doesn’t seem to me very promising. How 
do you get on with Lady Jane? Does she ever have tan- 
trums?” 

44 Never, that I am aware of,” answered Hope. 

44 1 expect she does, though, or her husband wouldn’t be 
always stroking her down. I shouldn’t wonder if she was 
rather an old cat when she was rubbed the wrong way.” 

44 Please remember that you are speaking of my aunt,” 
said Hope. 

44 Well, you didn’t make her, though she is your aunt; 
and she is no blood relation of yours, after all. Upon my 
word, if I were you I think I should try to get out of this 
before the wind changed.’ 

44 1 think I shall,” said Hope, quietly, 44 though not ex- 
actly for that reason. ” And without further preface she 
unfolded the scheme which she had planned out for her 
future career. 

Herbert did not interrupt her. The only. comment that 
he permitted himself, after she had done, was: 44 There’ll 
be a nice row when you tell them!” 


39 


A BACHELORS BLENDER. 

“ I suppose so, but I fancy that I shall be able to sur- 
vive that. " 

“ Very likely; you seem to have plenty of pluck. But, 
to tell you the truth, I think you will have to give up this 
idea after a bit. I know something about an artist's life, 
because I have a young protege who is going to set the 
Thames on fire some fine day, and I hear about it from 
him. He is up in London now, studying. Of course that 
sort of Bohemian existence is all very well for him, for his 
name is Jacob Stiles — did you ever hear such a name! — 
and he had no father to speak of; but it would be a very 
different thing for you. A woman can't get out of her 
own class." 

4 4 Yet you advised me just now to get out of Helston?" 

44 That's another matter. Of course marriage is the only 
means of escape open to you." 

4 ‘ Thank you," said Hope, rather coldly; “but I don't 
feel inclined to adopt that means." 

44 I suppose you are not of age yet?" observed Herbert, 
after reflecting for a few minutes. 

Hope confessed that she was not. 

44 So that if old Lefroy won't hear of your going in for 
the painting business you'll be about done, won't 3 ^our" 

4 4 1 shall try to get him to consent, at all events, " replied 
Hope. 44 You are not very encouraging," she added, in a 
rather injured tone. 

44 1 don't mean to be. You'll have no end of a fuss be- 
fore you get your own way; and, besides, I don't much 
fancy the notion of your living in London lodgings all by 
yourself. Still, perhaps, as you say, it might be worth a 
trial. Anything for liberty." 

Hope changed the subject and regretted having intro- 
duced it. From a man of Mr. Herbert's independent char- 
acter rather less conventional language might have been ex- 
pected, she thought, and he might at least have displayed 
a little interest in what he had been told. She did not 
give him credit for being more interested than he chose to 
appear; nor did she know that it was in order to do her a 
service that he deserted her after dinner that evening, and 
seated himself in a distant corner beside Lady Jane. 

44 That niece of yours," he remarked casually to his 
hostess, 44 is an uncommonly clever girl." 


40 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


44 She is a clever girl, and a pretty girl, and a good girl,” 
said Lady Jane, emphatically. 

44 Yes, all that. There are plenty of pretty girls about, 
and I am quite sure that there are a fair number of" good 
ones; but it isn’t every day that you meet a girl who can 
jDaint like Miss Lefroy . 99 

44 H’ip — well, no; I dare say not/’ agreed Lady Jane, 
who was not very strong as an art critic. 

4 4 1 was looking at some of her pictures the other day/* 
Herbert went on, 44 and I was very much struck with them 
— I was really. It seems a thousand pities that so much 
talent shouldn’t be utilized.” 

44 Do you mean that she ought to sell her pictures?” 

44 Why shouldn’t she? It’s an honorable profession, and, 
under present circumstances, I suppose the money would 
be welcome to her. Of course she might not find pur- 
chasers for the things that she has done already; but after 
a year or so of study I do believe she would turn out an 
artist. ” 

44 There is no necessity for Hope to make money; but I 
am sure I shall be very glad to let her have lessons when 
we are in London,” Lady Jane -said, graciously. 

44 Oh, I don’t mean that sort of tiling; you can’t learn 
an art in that way. To do any good you must go in for 
the thing thoroughly — live in London, you know, and give 
up society and work hard. I was talking .to her about it 
to-day. If only there were some respectable person whom 
she could board with — however, I suppose it couldn’t be 
managed.” 

44 Really,” said Lady Jane, 44 1 don’t quite see how it 
could.” 

44 N o — oh, no; it was only a dream of mine.” 

He said nothing more for awhile; but when Lady Jane 
was beginning: 44 1 look upon dear Hope quite as one of 
mv own daughters now — ” he interrupted her with: 44 If 
ever I marry, which isn’t a very likely event to come off, I 
shall marry a woman who can do something. I could 
make a friend of a woman like that; I should never be able 
to stand a wife who had only a pretty face and nice man- 
ners. Upon my word, I’d as soon marry a lady-doctor.” 

44 My dear Dick,” returned Lady Jane affectionately, 
44 you will never marry at all: and to be quite candid, I 


a bachelor’s blunder. 41 

shouldn’t care to see any girl whom I was fond of married 
to you. You are too fastidious and fanciful.” 

This she said to show her dear Dick how guiltless she was 
of any designs upon him; but that night she remarked to 
her husband, with a certain quiet triumph: “ Montague, I 
am going to astonish you.” 

‘‘Iam sorry to hear it, ” said Mr. Lefroy, apprehensively. 

“ You need not be sprry; it is nothing unpleasant, only 
something very surprising. I have discovered that Dick 
Herbert has fallen over head and ears in love with Hope.” 

“Oh,” said Mr. Lefroy, “I could have told you that 
some day| ago; but falling a little bit in love isn’t quite the 
same thing as marrying. Added to which, it don’t follow 
that she is in love with him. You had better prepare 
yourself for a possible disappointment. ” 

“ I am always prepared for disappointment,” Lady Jane 
declared; “but if I know anything of the ways of girls, 
Hope will not refuse Dick. My only fear is that he will 
take a long time making up his mind to propose, and per- 
haps will never do it at all.” 

' He certainly did not do it before his departure, which 
took place two days later; but at the last moment he took 
occasion to whisper to Hope: “ I think I’ve helped you a 
tiny bit. Don’t broach the great plan for a day or two, 
and mind you are extra civil to your aunt. She is capable 
of taking your side if you keep in with her.” 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE DOCTOR INTERVENES. 

“Come!” said Mr. Lefroy, persuasively. “I think we 
might arrive at a compromise if we tried. You say that 
your life is your own to dispose of, and that you wish to de- 
vote it to the service of art. As a fact, your life is not 
altogether at your own disposal just yet; but we will waive 
that. Let it be agreed that henceforth the chief aim and 
object of your existence is to be the painting and selling of 
pictures. So be it, and I shall be delighted to help you in 
any possible way; only allowing you to live all by yourself 
in London lodgings is not a possible way. ” 

It was on a misty October day that Mr. Lefroy, in the 
course of an interview with his niece, thus delivered him- 


42 A bachelor’s blunder. 

self. He was sitting in his study, which had once been his 
brother’s study, and was still full of his brother’s books and 
odds and ends. He was sorry to be obliged to receive Hope 
there; but what could he do? He must have a den of some 
kind, and he could not shut the room up. Nevertheless, 
the influence of the place caused him to listen very patiently 
to what the girl had to say, and prevented him from meet- 
ing her request with a blunt refusal. 

“You yourself must see,” he continued, “ that it would 
never do for us to turn you adrift like a friendless orphan; 
but you can have the best masters, and attend classes, or 
Schools of Art, or anything that you like, while we are in 
town; that is to say, from early in March till the%iddle or 
end of J uly. Have you any objection to make to that pro- 
posal?” 

“ Only that it would altogether defeat my object,” an- 
swered Hope, smiling. “ I want to be a professional art- 
ist, not an amateur; and I want something else, too, but I 
am afraid you. won’t like my saying so. Uncle Montague — 

I want to be independent. ” 

“ My dear child, you might as well say that you want to^ 
be Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India, 
and Defender of the Faith. Not that you would be inde- 
pendent then. Great as the charms of independence are, 
very few of us — certainly very few young ladies — are per- 
mitted to enjoy them. Let us take comfort from the 
thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be good for us if we 
were. ” 

“ I should not wish to be independent if papa w r ere liv- 
ing, or if I were your daughter,” Hope said. “I think 
you understand what I mean.” 

“I decline to understand. My position toward you is 
that of a father; I regard- you as being, for all practical 
purposes, one of my daughters, and I can only say to you, 
as I should to Alice or Gertrude in a similar case, that your 
demand is outrageous.” 

“ That is hardly fair, Uncle Montague,” returned Hope, 
her color rising slightly. “ I did not expect you to be 
pleased at my wishing to leave Helston; I know it must 
seem ungrateful, though I am not really ungrateful; but I 
can’t see that I am asking for anything outrageous.” 

“ Very well, I withdraw 4 outrageous. ’ Nowadays I find. 
that I can never open my lips in the house without being 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


43 


called upon to withdraw something; so that the sensation is 
not new to me. I will substitute ‘ amazing.’ You can’t 
object to ‘ amazing;’ it is a term which may be applied to 
the noblest forms of ambition. My dear Hope, your ambi- 
tion may be a noble one and a creditable one — far be it 
from me to assert the contrary! — but it has the fatal defect 
of being impracticable. Girls of your age can’t go off and 
set up house by themselves; that sort of thing isn’t done. ” 

“ Yet, if I had been an heiress, it might have been 
done.” 

“ Really, I don’t think so. You would have been my 
ward, in any case, until you were of age, and I could hardly 
have consented to your living apart from us. However, we 
need not consider what might have been. Come, Hope; 
give up this extravagant project — well, well, I withdraw 
^extravagant,’ the project can go without an adjective, 
since it is to be thrown overboard — give up thinking about 
it, and, as I said before. I’ll do the best I can for you. I’ll 
speak to your aunt.” 

“ Couldn’t we speak to her now. Uncle Montague?” 

“Heaven forbid! Ho you wish to see Lady Jane 
stretched upon the floor in a fit? What I meant was that 
I would speak to her about your taking lessons in London. ” 

But Hope, who had been tentatively sounding her aunt 
for some time past, and had been surprised at the amicable 
spirit in which her hints had been taken, was less appre- 
hensive than Mr. Lefroy; and at that moment, as luck 
would have it, Lady Jane herself walked into the room, 
bringing with her some letters as to which she wished to 
consult her husband. Hope at once opened the attack all 
along the line, without any preliminary skirmishing. 

“ Aunt Jane, do you see any harm in my going up to 
London to study painting? I should five with Mills, who 
would take the greatest possible care of me, and I know 
Mr. Tristram would put me in the way of learning what 
people who adopt art as a profession ought to learn. I 
must do something, and I may learn to be an artist; I feel 
that I shall never learn to be anything else.” 

Mr. Lefroy closed his eyes and waited for the storm to 
burst. He opened them again to their fullest extent at the 
first sound of his wife’s voice and fixed them upon her face, 
which, to his profound astonishment, was wreathed in 
smiles. 


44 


a bachelor's blunder. 


Lady Jane was shaking her head gently. 44 My dear 
child/' said she, 44 you are far too sensible to have ever im- 
agined that such a thing as this could be possible, and you 
need not tell me who put it into your head. It is Dick 
Herbert all over. Dick is a dear good fellow; but you 
should, beware of taking’ him too literally. He has defied 
conventionality all his life, and of course there is no reason 
why he shouldn't, if he chooses; but it is too bad of him to 
have given you the idea that you could do the same. How- 
ever, he has most likely forgotten all about it by this 
time. " 

, 44 It was not Mr. Herbert's idea, it was my own," replied 
Hope, 44 and it is quite the same thing to me whether he 
remembers or forgets it. Why should you say that I am 
defying conventionality? It is only as if I were going to 
school; and you would not mind my doing that if I were # a 
year or two younger. Oh, Aunt Jane," she continued, 
laying her hand upon her aunt's arm and speaking with a 
little quiver in her voice, 44 please let me go! I can't stay 
here. You are all very kind; but — but — oh, don't you see 
that I can’t stay?" 

Lady Jane did not see it at all, and did not like the tone 
that her niece was taking up. 44 My dear," she answered, 
drawing away her arm, while the smile faded from her 
face, 4 4 you really must try to be more reasonable. Ask 
me for something that I can give you, and I shall be only 
too glad to make you happy; but you can't expect me to 
countenance this extravagant scheme." 

44 We don't withdraw 4 extravagant ' this time," mur- 
mured Mr. Lefroy; but his interruption was not heeded. 
Hope went on pleading, at first humbly, then passionately, 
then tearfully; but Lady Jane kept her temper and main- 
tained her authority, and the end of it was that her niece 
had to withdraw from the field, vanquished. 

The girl's disappointment was very bitter. She had set 
her heart upon getting her own way, and experience had 
not taught her that those who get their own way in this 
world do so more commonly by circuitous than by direct 
means. The worst of it was that, upon reflection, she could 
not help seeing how much more plausible her aunt's case 
was than her own. She was to be allowed to take lessons 
during five months of the year, if she was so minded; all 
that was denied to her was independence — and, as a matter 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


45 


of abstract theory, a girl of nineteen certainly should not 
wish to be independent. “ I must wait until I am twenty- 
one; that is all,” she said to herself, and the prospect was 
not a smiling one. To go on living as a stranger in her old 
home — how could she endure it? A hundred little daily 
rubs and worries, which, for being quite inevitable in her 
position, were not the less galling, recurred to her mind, 
and she could no longer make light of them. She had 
nothing to set against them now, nothing to look forward 
to; for who can look two whole years ahead? Hope’s dis- 
position was naturally sweet and sanguine; she was deter- 
mined not to sulk because she had been thwarted, and she 
tried to go about with as cheerful a face as usual. But in 
private she brooded and fretted, until at last she made her- 
self so ill that the doctor had to be called in. 

The doctor was a cheery, good-humored little man who 
had known Miss Lefroy from the day of her birth. A very 
few questions and answers sufficed to show him what was 
the matter, and on being led into the library by Lady Jane, 
he asked whether he might be permitted to suggest a moral 
prescription. 

“ Please suggest anything that you like,” answered Lady 
Jane, resignedly. “ I know what you are going to say: the 
poor girl is not happy. But how can I help it?” 

“ Oh,” said the doctor, 44 1 think you can help it. Do 
you know. Lady Jane, I was once summoned to attend a 
little boy in a humble rank of life who was consumed with 
anxiety to go to sea. He was not fit for it; he hadn’t the 
constitution for it, and he had never been aqcustomed to 
being cuffed. He was the only son of his parents, who natu- 
rally couldn’t endure the thought of his being flogged with 
a rope’s end and possibly drowned. They reasoned with 
him, they scolded him, I am not sure that they didn’t even 

f ive him a gentle whipping; but it was all no good. The 
oy literally pined away, and at last they got frightened and 
sent for me. I had a good deal of difficulty in prevailing 
upon them to let him do as he wished, but I succeeded in 
the end, and when a year was up he returned from his first 
and last voyage, radically cured. He is now a respectable 
carpenter in a goodVay of business, and when he takes his 
wife and family for a day’s holiday he goes anywhere rather 
than to the sea-side. ” 


46 


a bachelor's blunder. 


“ That is all very well/' said Lady Jane, “ but suppose 
he had liked a sea-faring life?" 

“ In that case I presume that he would have made a good 
sailor; and there are worse people than good sailors in this 
world. I am not competent to give an opinion as to 
whether Miss Hope will ever become an artist or not, but I 
don't hesitate to say that there is nothing like a personal 
trial of the realities of life for dispelling visions and making 
young ladies and carpenters' apprentices contented with 
their respective lots." 

Lady Jane stroked her chin with her eyeglasses. “ Per- 
haps," she said meditatively, “ there may be something in 
that. For my own part, all I wish is to do what is right, 
and if we do decide to follow your advice, I shall feel easier 
about asking down a few friends whom Mr. Lefroy wishes 
to have here for the covert-shooting, and whom we really 
ought to ask. While dear Hope is in the house I quite 
dread inviting anybody; because, although she says noth- 
ing, I can see that it is painful to her. On the other hand, 
if we send her away, people are sure to say that we want to 
get rid of her. Still, if you, as her medical attendant, are 
quite convinced that she ought to go to London- — " 

“ I have not a doubt of it," replied the doctor, with a 
perfectly grave face and a twinkle in the corner of his eye. 
“ It is true that your niece is at present free from organic 
disease, but I dare say you are aware that in every human 
body there is a predisposition toward one form of ailment 
or another, and Miss Hope's low, nervous condition is es- 
pecially favorable to the development of — er — active mis- 
chief. In ghort, if she is vexed or crossed, I will not be 
answerable for the consequences." 

“ That," observed Lady Jane with a sigh of resignation, 
“ is conclusive. Health should be the first consideration, 
and since you order Hope to London, I must not venture to 
disobey you." 

Thus Hope obtained her freedom after all; not because 
she had asked for it, or because it was good for her, or be- 
cause anybody really thought it desirable; but because 
young Lord Middleborough had paid a good deal of atten- 
tion to Alice during the past season; because Lord Middle- 
borough liked pheasant- shooting: because it was impossible 
to ask him to Ilelston without inviting a party to meet him; 
and, finally, because “ the doctor ordered it " is, or ought 


a bachelor's blunder. 


47 


to be, a sufficient answer to any ill-natured persons who 
might accuse a fond aunt of turning her niece out-of-doors. 
Let us hasten to add, in justice to Lady Jane, that she was 
quite unconscious of this string of motives; and indeed, if 
we once begin prying either into our own or into other 
people's motives, we are likely to waste much time and 
gain little satisfaction. Hope did nothing of the kind. She 
was too much pleased with the result to care whether its 
causes were simple or complex, and the very same evening 
she wrote to -Mills to ask for the accommodation that she 
required. 

By return of post Mills expressed in glowing language 
her pride at having been selected to take charge of her 
young mistress, her delight at the thought of the meeting 
which was now so near, and her fears lest the first floor in 
Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square, should seem terribly 
restricted in point of size and mean in point of furniture by 
comparison with the space and magnificence of Helston 
Abbey. She further intimated her surprise that the family 
should have decided to send Miss Hope to lodgings, seeing 
that the house in Eaton Square was standing empty, and 
that a few servants could very well have been spared “ to 
make you comfortable, the same as your poor, dear papa 
would have wished." She added, however, that it was not 
for her to complain of the arrangement that had been 
made. “ And if your own flesh and blood don't know your 
value, my dear, your old nurse does. So please tell her 
ladyship, with my respectful duty, that you will be took as 
much care of here as if you was at home. " 

Evidently Mills was one of those ill-conditioned persons, 
mentioned by Lady Jane, who would be sure to accuse 
Hope's relations of wishing to get rid of her. It did not, 
therefore, seem advisable to show her ladyship the whole 
of Mills's letter, although the above message was duly de- 
livered and graciously received. 

Lady Jane, indeed, appeared determined to be gracious. 
During the last week of her stay at Helston, Hope was 
troubled with no more remonstrances, and only had to 
listen to a good many homilies touching the conduct which 
it would behoove her to adopt in London. She might, of 
course, fall upon such of her friends as happened to be in 
town; but it would be better that she should not do so too 
frequently, and on no account whatever was she to form 


48 


A bachelob's blundeb. 


fresh acquaintances. It was taken for granted that her ab- 
sence would only be temporary, and that she would be back 
before the end of the year, which impression she wisely did 
not attempt to correct. “Twill certainly be with you at 
Christmas,” she said, not adding that she proposed to allow 
herself no more than a fortnights holiday at that time. 

Nevertheless, she was unable to avoid a dispute with her 
uncle about money, her intention being to live upon the 
£250 a year provided for her, which Mr. Lefroy declared to 
be preposterous and impossible. Her knowledge of the 
subject was so limited that she was easily put to silence, 
and in the end had to accept, with a mental reservation, 
the additional sum stated to be absolutely necessary for her 
support during the next three months. 

“ I wish there was no such thing as money in the world!” 
she exclaimed impatiently at last; and perhaps there was 
some truth in the remark made by Mr. Lefroy to his wife, 
as they stood watching the carriage which bore Hope away 
to the station: 

“ My dear, I am quite ready to admit that you are gen- 
erally right, while I am generally wrong; but to all rules 
there are exceptions, and I can't help thinking that you 
ha^'e made a little mistake in allowing that girl to get her 
head up. I shouldn't be surprised if she broke clean away 
from you, after this." 

But Lady Jane said: “Montague, you do not under- 
stand girls. She will cqme back in a very different frame 
of mind, and before this time next year she will be married 
to Hick Herbert.” 

“ Will she indeed? When that event comes off I shall 
be more than ever convinced that you are a very superior 
woman. ” 

“ I hope you will. In the meantime be thankful that 
you can now ask as many men as you wish down to shoot 
your pheasants. '' 

Whereupon Mr. Lefroy, who knew very well that the 
men who would be asked to shoot his pheasants would not 
be men of his choosing, smiled, and returned to his study. 


a bachelor's blunder. 


49 


CHAPTER VI. . 

TRISTRAM, R. A. 

There are more quiet houses in London than is perhaps 
generally supposed; and probably there would be more still 
if the majority of people did not secretly enjoy the din of 
which they so often complain. Such houses must, however, 
of course be situated in a cul-de-sac, and this is apt to 
make them as dreary to those who like looking out of the 
window as they are delightful to persons of a studious turn 
or nervous temperament. The noise of the traffic comes to 
them from afar in a subdued, continuous roar, like the 
breaking of the seas upon a shingly beach; organ-grinders 
and costermongers shun them; often they have gardens 
attached to them — somewhat grimy ones, it is true, still 
gardens; and the owner of one of these is to be seen by his 
neighbors on most summer evenings, pacing up and down, 
his pipe in his mouth, his soft felt hat on the back of his 
head, and his hands in the pockets of his shabby shooting- 
coat, until the darkness hides him. The neighbors, peer- 
ing inquisitively down at this tall, solitary figure, are w r ont 
to wonder wliat he is thinking about, and no doubt their 
inability to satisfy their curiosity saves them from disap- 
pointment; for, like the rest of the world, Wilfrid Tris- 
tram, R. A., frequently thinks about nothing worth men- 
tioning. Yet, being, as he unquestionably is, a man of 
great original genius, it is only natural that he should be 
an object of interest to those who. dwell around him. He 
is famous, he is odd, and he is reported to be wealthy. His 
house, which was built from his own designs about ten 
years ago, and which stands in a short street not far from 
Rutland Gate, is as original as its master and by no means 
as shabby as his coat. Constructed by an artist for an 
artist, it would be unfit for any other occupant, and unless 
Tristram leaves it to an artist at his death, it will have to 
be pulled down. It possesses an entrance-hall of noble 
dimensions, a vast and admirably lighted studio, a good- 
sized dining-room, a small smoking-room, and no drawing- 
room at all. There is said to be accommodation for one or 


50 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


two visitors upstairs: but as Tristram never has a visitor to 
stay with him, this is space thrown away. 

Friends, however, he has, and plenty of them. It is 
probably for their sake that he keeps an excellent cook, he 
himself being utterly indifferent as to what he eats and 
drinks. His dinner-parties, which occur on an average 
twice a week during the season, and to which only men are 
invited, are popular. There is no formality about them; 
a large proportion of those who attend them have achieved 
distinction in some way; they are enlivened by a good deal 
of merriment, and the company seldom separates until the 
night is far advanced. The host, when in the humor, can 
be as gay as the youngest of his guests and will even in- 
dulge in a little horseplay upon occasion; but it is doubtful 
whether he does not prefer his own society to that of any- 
body else. There are men who, by nature, or by the force 
of circumstances, are doomed to be always alone, and such 
men" are probably never more alone than when they are 
surrounded by companions. Tristram’s history — or, if not 
his history, some approximate version of it, which did as 
well — was known to his friends, and was considered by 
them to explain some of his peculiarities. Many years 
back, his wife, to whom he was said to have been passion- 
ately attached, had left him for the sake of a good-looking 
young fool, by whom she, in her turn, had been speedily 
deserted; and this was held to account for Tristram’s dis- 
like of women and for the roughness of his manner toward 
them, as to which many anecdotes were current. 

“ If you want to see my pictures,” he said once, knitting 
his shaggy brows and glaring at a great lady who had sailed 
into his studio, “ you can go to the private view at the 
Academy; if you want to buy them, you can communicate 
with me by letter; but if you only want to talk, I must 
ask you to repeat your visit some day when there is no 
light and when I can’t work.” 

Yet there were a few ladies — the heroine of this story, 
amongst others— whom he did not hate. He admitted that 
good women, though rare, were to be met with occasion- 
ally; good men he believed to be upon the whole (and if 
you did not fix your standard too high), more common than 
bad ones. What he could not and would not admit was 
the existence of a single capable art critic. For many years 
the critics had ignored or laughed at him; they had caused 


a bachelor's blunder. 


51 


him an amount of suffering which would have astonished 
them very much had they known of it, and he was quite 
unable to forgive them now that they lauded him to the 
skies. It was against the critics that Hope used to hear 
him thundering in the days when her father used to take 
her to Tristram's studio. He would not even have their 
praise, which he averred to be as stupid as their blame. 
One of them, and one only, had had the luck to win a good 
word from him by declaring that it was “ impossible to 
judge Mr. Tristram's works by any of the received canons 
of Art." 

“ Here," cried Tristram, when he read the above pas- 
sage, “ is a fellow who deserves to be better employed! He 
has found out that there are forest trees which his little 
arms can't span nor his puny strength cut down, and in a 
moment of honesty he actually says so! There is hope for 
that man." And he incontinently asked the critic to din- 
ner, but was disappointed with him on closer acquaintance, 
finding him less humble than might have been anticipated. 
Humility was a virtue which Tristram felt to be more be- 
coming in others than in himself. He. could not help know- 
ing that he was a great man; it was a pity that he could 
not help the littlenesses from which even great men are not 
always exempt. Confident in his own genius, but so sensi- 
tive to a breath of censure that the reading of the news- 
papers at certain seasons of the year was a daily penance to 
him, he made himself miserable over attacks at which 
other artists would have been content to smile, and it was 
always in the power of the merest criticaster to goad him 
into a fury. 

However, not many people attacked him after his repu- 
tation was once made: and it must be said for him that his 
wrath, even against the critics, did not go beyond words. 
Had one of them been reduced to poverty and come to 
beg for his assistance, it is certain that five pounds would 
have found their way out of Tristram's pocket into his be- 
fore he had been narrating his woes for five minutes. Per- 
sons in need of five pounds, and of greater as well as less 
sums, frequently visited Tristram, got what they wanted, 
and, as the lamentable practice of such persons is, returned 
a second and third time. “ The greatest painter of the 
century," as they were too apt to denominate him in their 
gratitude, opened his hands to them without stint and with- 


wsr» 


52 


a bachelor's blunder. 


out putting many questions. He had known what it was 
to be poor and hungry, and had no desire that others should 
experience those sad sensations, if he could help it. True, 
he had never begged — would probably have starved rather 
than beg— but that was because he happened to respect 
himself. He did not expect everybody to possess self-re- 
spect, or demand too much of poor human nature. Half 
child, half philosopher, he scattered abroad the money of 
which he now had far more than he required, only too glad 
that it should be picked up by those who cared more about 
it than he did. 

One November morning he was in his studio, dashing off 
a study for a picture which afterward became celebrated — 
44 The Sale of the Roman Empire by the Praetorians to 
Didius Julianus" — when some one was announced whose 
business was not of that simple kind which is disposed of 
by the careless gift of a handful of guineas. Tristram, 
who had not seen Hope since her father's death, and who 
was far from suspecting what had brought her to his house, 
dropped his brushes and hurried toward the door to meet 
her. 

44 Ah, my dear Miss Hope!" he exclaimed, taking both 
her hands, 44 1 don't know whether I am most glad to see 
you, or sad to see you alone. Your dear father was a kind 
friend to me — I think he was kind to everybody. Only he 
was always so quiet in his ways that perhaps we none of us 
knew how much we cared for him till we heard that he 
was gone." 

. Tristram was not a reticent man. It would never have 
occurred to him to pass over his old friend's death without 
allusion, or to express his sympathy with the orphan by 
silence and mournful looks, which is the more common 
method. He may have been wanting in delicacy; but 
Hope, at any rate, did not think so. ^ His simple words 
went straight to her heart and brought the tears into her 
eyes. 

44 You really knew him," she said; 44 there are so few 
people who did. " 

So they sat down together and talked about by-gone days, 
and Hope was able to speak more freely of her loss than 
she had as yet spoken to any one. 

44 But I thought not to interrupt you like this," she said 
at last. 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


53 


“ You don’t interrupt me,” answered Tristram, “ or 
rather I like being interrupted. But I can go on with my 
work if it will make you more comfortable.” And he 
picked up his palette and brushes again. “ What are you 
doing in London? Are your uncle and aunt up?” he asked 
presently. 

“ No,” answered Hope, “ I am living by myself — at 
least, I am living with an old nurse of mine — and I called 
to-day to have a serious consultation with you. You know 
that I have lost all my money?” 

“ Yes, I heard. It made me very sorry. ” 

“ You ought not to be sorry,” returned Hope, smiling. 
“ Do you remember once saying to me that it was a thou- 
sand pities that I was not obliged to earn my own living?” 

Tristram stopped painting and looked at her, drawing his 
brows together. ' . 

“ Did I say that?” he asked. 

“ Yes; and the last time I saw you — at that ball, you 
know — you told me that I ought to be thankful for having 
a pursuit to fall back upon. ” 

“That I do remember; and I stick to what I said. 
Well?” 

“ Well, now I have fallen back upon my pursuit and I 
have to work for my living, and I want you to advise me 
as to the best and quickest way of doing so.” 

When Tristram was annoyed or perplexed he had a habit 
of combing his beard violently with his long fingers. He 
began combing his beard now. 

“ Am I to understand that you are dependent upon your 
own exertions?” he asked. 

‘ £ Not exactly that, because I have a small income still. 
I should have thought it would have been enough for me 
to live upon, but they tell me it isn’t; and anyhow, I should 
prefer its being larger. ” 

“ But I have heard that your uncle — that you were to 
continue to live at Helston?” 

“ Yes; but I couldn’t! I know everybody would say that 
it was ‘ the proper arrangement, ’ and I know everybody 
will be horrified at my wanting to be an artist and lead an 
independent life; but you are not like everybody. I thought 
you would understand.” 

“ Oh, I understand well enough,” answered Tristram, 
who was walking about the room, and was still causing 


54 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


himself much unnecessary pain by dragging hairs out of his 
beard; “ I understand as well as anybody what the charms 
of freedom are; but then, my dear Miss Hope, I am a great 
big man and I have always had to look after myself, while 
you are a young lady who has been brought up in cotton- 
wool.” 

“ A woman may be an artist,” said Hope. 

“ Oh, certainly; there is Rosa Bonheur, and there was 
Angelica Kaufmann. ” 

“ There have also been plenty of others. Please don’t 
talk to me as if I were a silly child. I don’t aspire to be 
famous; but surely there is no great presumption in think- 
ing that I may learn to paint pictures which some people 
will buy. Look at the rubbish that they do buy!” 

“ Would you be content to paint rubbish? I grant you 
that rubbish sells more readily than anything else; but even 
that popular article requires to be signed by a well-known 
name. ” 

“ Everything must have a beginning. ” 

'“Oh, excuse me; there are many things which had 
much better not be begun.” He paused abruptly in his 
walk and planted himself in front of his visitor, with his 
hands upon his hips. “ Look here. Miss Hope,” said he; 
“ did you come to ask me for advice?” 

“•No,” answered Hope, boldly, “ I didn’t; because my 
mind is made up. I came to ask you for information and 
help.” 

“ Come,” said Tristram, with a laugh. “ I am glad 
you take up that line; it relieves me from responsibility. 
And now, if you will promise not to tell anybody. I’ll let 
you into a secret: I believe that if I had been in your place, 
I should have done exactly what you are doing.” 

Hope’s face, which had grown rather grave, lighted up 
with smiles. “ Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed, gratefully. 

“ Ah, but that doesn’t alter the fact that you are doing a 
foolish thing. Now, how am I to help you? Do you want 
me to introduce you to the picture-dealers?” 

“ Of course I don’t; how could you think such a thing 
of me? I want you to recommend a course of study to me. 
I am utterly ignorant about masters and schools, and so on. 
The only master I know of is old Mr. Bluett, whom papa 
used to have down to Helston to give me lessons. ” 


a bachelor's blunder. 


55 


u And who taught you long ago all that he has it in him 
to teach.” 

C£ I dare say he did. Where ought I to go now, then?” 

Tristram took a few more turns without replying, and 
then said suddenly: “ You had better come here, I think.” 

“ Here?” repeated Hope, doubting whether she had heard 
rightly. 

“ Yes, I think so; it isn't as if you were quite a be- 
ginner. If you were, I should hesitate to undertake you, 
for I have very little patience and no experience as a 
teacher; but, as it is, I believe I can push }^ou on more 
rapidly than you could be pushed on in a school of art. 
Isio doubt you would learn something there; but the process 
is a slow one, and my object is — ” 

“But, Mr. Tristram," interrupted Hope, “I must not 
take up your time in that way. It is very good and kind 
of you to think of it; but I could not accept so much.” 

“ I never met such an obstinate young lady as you are; 
you won’t accept anything from anybody! JDo you suppose 
I am going to let you interfere with my work, pray? What 
you are to do is to watch me in the first place, and to work 
in a corner by yourself in the second. Every now and then 
I shall take a look at you, and tell you where you are going 
wrong. What I was saying when you interrupted me was 
that my object is to be able to let you know as soon as 
possible whether there is any use in your persevering. Mind 
you, it isn't worth your while to paint what you call rub- 
bish. You sacrifice a great deal in taking up Art as a pro- 
fession. You lose sight of your friends, you drop qut of 
society, you are called eccentric, and you miss opportunities 
which — which — in short, you leave your own class. If you 
have any chance of making a name for yourself, well and 
good. But you must not pay such a long price merely for 
the satisfaction of pocketing twenty or thirty guineas occa- 
sionally. " 

“ You forget the freedom," remarked Hope, smiling. 

“ Oh, freedom! — that's a relative term. After all, what 
do you want with freedom? — and who is really free to do as 
he likes? Certainly you are not. Why, you can't even 
come here to study under a gray-beard like me, unless you 
bring some sort of an old woman with you. I have an aged 
housekeeper somewhere about the establishment who might 
do. Or could you get your ex-nurse to look after you?” 


56 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


“ I will ask her,” answered Hope, to whom this aspect 
of the case had not yet presented itself, and who began to 
realize the difficulties of independent existence. 4 4 But I 
am not sure that she can spare the time.” 

Mills, however, when' informed of the service required of 
her, declared that all her time was at her young mistress’s 
disposal, and that her first-floor lodgers must not expect to 
have their landlady at their beck and call from morning till 
night. It was bad enough, she said, that they should be 
on the first-floor at all, while their betters were sent up to 
pokey little rooms over their heads; but if they began to 
give themselves airs, why, the sooner they moved elsewhere 
the better. 

As they had never given themselves airs this was a little 
hard upon them; but Mills was not pleased with what she 
considered Hope’s escapade, and, being vexed at things 
generally, had to find a scapegoat somewhere. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE OPINIONS OF MRS. MILLS. 

Injustice and misconception are rife in this world, and 
very good people often judge other good people with con- 
spicuous lack of charity. It is even pretended by some that 
good people are more prone to err in this way than bad 
ones; but let that pass. Certain it is that at this time the 
worthy and faithful Mills formed an exceedingly low opin- 
ion of Mr. Montague Lefroy. Miss Hope, poor dear, might 
think it a fine thing to try and earn her own daily bread; it 
was natural that she should think so, bless her innocence! 
But what would her poor papa have said if he could have 
seen her tramping through the streets in all weathers on 
her way to the house of a common artist, who was not over 
and above civil to her when she got there, and didn’t seem 
to know his proper place at all! And as for that old uncle 
of hers, who was living in what ought to have been her 
home, and who should have known a great deal better than 
to permit such goings-on. Mills became so angry when 'she 
thought of his behavior that she was more than once driven 
to exclaim “ Drat him!” aloud. However, she only did 
this in the solitude of her own room. Mills knew her place, 
if Mr. Tristram did not know his. She might have her 


A BACHELOR'S BLENDER. 


57 


own notions of what was right as betwixt relations, of what 
was due from the younger branch of a family to the older, 
likewise of what was commonly decent; but far be it from 
her to utter them! She was well aware that it was not for 
her to make remarks about her superiors, and that there 
might be no mistake as to her submissive attitude, she took 
care to say as much to Hope every morning of her life. 

But neither with her lips nor in her heart did she mur- 
mur at the task imposed upon her of spending many a 
weary hour in the studio of the common artist above men- 
tioned. She did not like it; she would have preferred to 
be keeping an eye upon her servants at home; but on the 
other hand she was proud of acting as Miss Hope’s pro- 
tector, and having an unfailing supply of socks and stock- 
ings to darn, argued philosophically that she might almost 
as well be darning them in one place as in another. 

Tristram, who was a good deal amused by her determined 
silence and by the grim impassiveness of her demeanor, 
found her, one day, gazing at a picture which he had just 
finished, and asked her what she thought of it. 

“ If you please, sir, I’m no judge,” the old woman said. 

“ That is a very poor reason to give for not pronouncing 
a judgment. Come, let us hear your opinion.” 

“ Well, sir, if I’m to say what I think,” replied Mills, 
who perhaps was not sorry to say what she thought, “ I 
prefer Miss Hope’s pictures to yours. ” 

“ It would be a very good thing for Miss Hope if half a 
dozen people whom I could name agreed with you and had 
the courage to say so. Personally, I feel bound to give 
myself the preference. I think, if you will make a careful 
comparison, you will see that I have a rather bolder style.” 

“ May be you have, sir, but it’s too splashy for my taste,” 
responded Mills briefly. 

“ Mrs. Mills,” said Tristram, “ you Ought to have been 
an art critic. You have laid your finger upon my chief 
defect, and I dare say it will astonish you to hear that that 
is the very thing for which I am most admired. Let me 
tell you, however, that there is no other artist in England 
who could make such splashes as those.” 

In this he spoke the simple truth, and he might have 
added that there was no artist in England less fitted to in- 
struct a beginner. Tristram’s method was his own, and 
could hardly be reduced to any set of rules for the guidance 


58 a bachelor's .blunder. 

of others. Yet he took great pains with his pupil', and 
though he could not impart to her the secret of his mar- 
velous dexterity, of the assured sweep of his brush, and of 
his rapidity of workmanship, he did teach her something. 

“ Correctness," he" told her, “ is all very well, but it is 
not Art. What you want to do is to throw your soul into 
your work and to force people to see with your eyes. Un- 
happily that is not easy." 

Hope, who had never expected to find it easy, was not 
discouraged by the very small meed of praise which re- 
warded her exertions. Tristram would stand with his hands 
behind his back silently contemplating what she had done, 
and when asked to point out faults, would reply that there * 
were none to speak of. “ You haven't got it yet, that's 
all," he would say, turning away. He did not explain 
what he meant by “ it," but Hope understood well enough. 

On one occasion she was privileged to overhear an inde- 
pendent opinion of her performances. As visitors often 
dropped in during the day, and as Tristram did not think 
it desirable that they should be aware of Miss Lefroy's 
jjresence, he had made Hope set up her easel in a small 
room adjoining the studio, the door of which he usually 
slammed at the first sound of approaching footsteps. One 
day, however, he happened to push it to without quite 
closing it, and thus Hope was enabled to hear a voice 
(which, if she had known it, belonged to a celebrated paint- 
er) expressing unbounded admiration of • “ The Sale of the 
. Roman Empire. " Tristram responded somewhat gruffly 
— it has already been said that he was a man whom it was 
difficult to praise to his satisfaction— and after a time, his 
friend, desisting from eulogy, began to walk about the 
studio, apparently examining one thing and another. 

“ This is fine, Tristram," Hope heard him say present- * 
ly; “ bat it isn't altogether you, somehow. I never knew 
you work up your details so elaborately before. " 

“ Glad 3'ou like it," replied Tristram; “ it's by a friend 
of mine, a rising young artist, and you can buy it cheap, if 
you choose." 

“Really?" said the other, who was well-to-do, and who 
sometimes purchased the works of rising artists, sometimes 
also disposing of them at a legitimate profit when the said 
artists had risen. “ What does he want for it?" 


A BACHELOR'S BLENDER. 


59 


“ Oh, fifty guineas now. Next year it may be a different 
story; but we mustn't be too greedy at starting. " 

The stranger laughed. “ I don't think" I'll buy it," he 
said. “ If I might offer your young friend a word of ad- 
vice, it would be to make the most he can of his own pow- 
ers and not try to imitate the inimitable. He has ruined 
his picture by putting in those bold touches, which he no 
doubt takes for a reproduction of your style. I was almost 
taken in for a moment, but a little closer inspection reveals 
the sham. Don't let the poor young man attempt that 
kind of thing again: it isn't to be done. There is only one 
Tristram in the world." 

4 4 But there are a great many asses," returned the un- 
grateful Tristram. “ Every one of those bold touches that 
you mention was put in by this unworthy hand. Where 
are you now, my good friend ?' ' 

“ It appears to me that I am in the house of a man who 
has been trying to palm off a fraud upon me," replied the 
other good-humoredly. “ Isn't it rather doubtful morality 
to get a young friend to paint a picture, touch it up your- 
self, and then ask fifty guineas for it:" 

“ That's right; grumble now! Why, man, have you no 
sense of shame? For that paltry sum I offer you a work 
which you yourself pronounced very fine so long as you 
thought that it was by me. When you found that it was 
neither by me nor by anybody else whom you had ever 
heard of, you began to sneer at it; and finally, when you 
are told that I added a stroke to it here and there, you talk 
about doubtful morality! Good Lord! What a world of 
ignorance and humbug we live in! Blindfold a man, and 
it is as much as he can do to distinguish between port and 
claret; give him a bottle of your best Chateau Margaux 
after dinner, and he will go into ecstasies over it — only if 
you tell him it is Medoc, he will call it sour. Doubtful 
morality, indeed! And what sort of morality do you call 
it, pray, to praise what you don't really like and run down 
what you are afraid to own that you admire? Of all kinds 
of dishonesty, I do think dishonest criticism is the most 
contemptible", because it is so perfectly safe. Hang me if 
I believe that such a thing as an honest critic exists!" 

He was still fuming after his friend had gone away, and 
when Hope, emerging from her ambush, confessed that she 
had been playing the eavesdropper. 


60 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


“ Well,” said he, “ I am not sorry that you should have 
heard what you did. It will show you what Art is as a 
profession, and the dog's life that we are made to lead 
sometimes for years. By fools, too; that's the worst of it. 
The man who has just gone away does at least know some- 
thing about his trade, and if he can be so blinded by prej- 
udice as to talk the nonsense that he did a few minutes ago, 
wliat can you expect from a fellow who only writes for the 
newspapers, and probably could not paint a cow that any- 
body would know from a pig, except by the horns?'' 

“ But he did think the picture good at first,” observed 
Hope, alluding to the artist, not the critic. 

“ Did he? Goodness knows what he thought; evidently 
he himself didn't. He said it was ‘fine.' It isn't fine; 
he could hardly have said anything more absurd. And he 
couldn't recognize my touch either when he saw it. Ah, 
well! in future when I want a candid judgment on my 
work, I shall apply to Mrs. Mills. Yours is an uncorrupted 
mind, Mrs. Mills; you don't deceive either yourself or 
others.” 

“ I trust not, sir,” replied Mills. “ And, if you please. 
Miss Hope, it's past one o'clock.'' 

Hope, as she walked away, was by no means so displeased 
with her unknown critic as Tristram had been. Secretly 
she was inclined to agree with him that the picture had 
been spoiled by those * bold touches which she had added 
to it. Tristram had spoken of fifty guineas, too, and had 
said that next year the price might be higher. That sound- 
ed promising. She had not altogether realized the mean- 
ing of his friend's laugh, and she was already beginning to 
realize the value of fifty guineas. That is a lesson quickly 
learned by such as attempt to live upon £250 a year, and 
Hope was resolved that her annual expenditure should not 
exceed that modest figure. She had gone into the matter 
in a thoroughly business-like spirit, and aftes setting aside 
fifty pounds a year for dress (for she could not conceive 
that any human being could be decently clothed upon less), 
had found that her rent and household bills averaged four 
pounds a week. Fifty-two multiplied by four gave two 
hundred and eight, or an annual deficit of eight pounds, 
which was a pity; but by spending a few weeks at Helston 
during the summer some further retrenchment would 
doubtless be achieved. Obviously, however, the budget 


A BACHELOR^ blunder. 


01 


could not be framed so as to include any estimate for 'cab- 
hire; and thus Miss Lefroy, accompanied by Mills, had to 
walk across Hyde Park twice every day. 

Hyde Park on a damp November afternoon is not the 
gayest place in the world, nor are its foot-paths always 
found pleasant walking by those foolish pedestrians who will 
insist upon wearing patent-leather boots in London, no 
matter what the season of the year may be. But when one 
has the credit of one's battalion to keep up in the matter 
of dress, one must not mind small discomforts, and the 
dapper young gentleman who stepped out of the mist to 
meet Hope and her protectress as they hurried homeward, 
had turned up his trousers and was picking his way along 
as cheerfully as could be expected under the muddy circum- 
stances. But when he recognized the figure in deep mourn- 
ing before him, his cheerfulness increased into joy; he 
pitched away his cigarette, took off his hat, and exclaimed: 
* e Good gracious! Miss Lefroy — how delighted I am! I 
didn't know you were in London. " 

Hope bowed, coloring slightly, and for the first time in 
her life feeling shy: and the young man added, with a 
rather crest-fallen air: “ You have forgotten all about me, 
I see. If there is a thing that fills me with grief and hu- 
miliation, it is having to tell people who I am; but there's 
no help for it, evidently, this time. My name is Cunning- 
ham. Now, don't sav you never heard it before. " 

There was not much danger of her saying that; nor had 
she ever forgotten the fascinating partner with whom she 
had once spent a happy evening and against whom she had 
been warned on the following day. Only he seemed to her 
to belong to some previous state of existence; his name 
was written in a concluded chapter; the change in her cir- 
cumstances, she thought, had opened an impassable gulf 
between her and the world to which she belonged by birth; 
and this — or some other reason which she did not specify to 
herself — made her feel embarrassed; so that she could find 
nothing to say, except: “ Oh, I remember you quite well. 
Captain Cunningham." 

“ Are you going to be any time in London?" he asked. 
“ Where are you staying? May I call upon you?" 

“ Well, no; I am afraid you can't do that," answered 
Hope, recovering her self-possession, “ because I am living 
all by myself. " 


62 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


Then, as he looked much astonished, she explained: 
“ That is, I am living with my old nurse. I don’t know 
whether — perhaps you have heard of my— my — misfort- 
unes.” 

The young man, assuming a decently lugubrious ex- 
pression of countenance, replied that he had, adding some- 
thing about “awfully sorry— very shocking ’’—and so 
lapsing into unintelligible murmurings. 

“I am studying art,” Hope continued; “ I hope to be 
able to support myself in that way some day or other. ” 

She was moving on now, and Cunningham was walking 
beside her. Mills having dropped into the background. 

“ Support yourself?” repeated the young man in a tone 
of astonishment amounting almost to stupefaction. “ I- — 
I — never heard of such a thing !’ ’ 

“It is my own choice,” said Hope, smiling at his con- 
sternation and guessing what his thoughts were. “ My 
uncle and aunt wanted me to stay on with them at Hel- 
ston; but I did not wish to do that. I felt that I must 
earn my own living. Don’t you understand?” she asked 
with a touch of impatience; for the young fellow was star- 
ing at her in undisguised surprise. 

“ Oh, yes,” he answered slowly, “ I understand — only I 
don’t sympathize. It is the sort of thing that you would 
be sure to do, and I admire you for it. All the more be- 
cause it is the sort of thing that I should be sure 'not to do. ” 

“ Would you not rather feel that you were living by the 
work of your own hands, than upon an allowance made 
you by an uncle?” 

“ I shouldn’t advise any uncle of mine to offer me an 
allowance unless he meant his offer to be jumped at. No, 
Miss Lefroy; it is my fixed principle never to do anything 
for myself so long as I can get somebody else to do it for 
me. ” 

After making this scandalous confession, of which he did 
not appear to be in the least ashamed. Captain Cunning- 
ham walked on in silence for a few seconds. - “ I should 
like awfully to see your pictures,” he remarked presently. 
“ Couldn’t I manage to get a look at them somehow?” 

“Not just at present,” answered Hope, sedately. 
“ When I have painted a sufficient number, I shall exhibit 
them in a gallery in Bond Street, and you will be admitted 
with the rest of the public, upon payment of a shilling. 


A BACHELOR’S BLENDER. 


63 


But it seems possible that you may have to wait a year or 
two.” 

“ And am I to wait a year or two before I see you again?” 

This was a question to which Hope was not prepared to 
give a reply; but it struck her all of a sudden that the 
present interview had lasted long enough; so she came to a 
standstill, and said: “ I don’t know. At any rate, I will 
not take you further out of your way now.” 

Captain Cunningham looked very unwilling to accept 
his dismissal. 

“ Of course, if you tell me to go, I must go,” he said, 
throwing a reproachful expression into those dark blue eyes 
of his; “ but. Miss Lefroy, do you never go anywhere where 
— where — your friends are likely to meet you?” 

“ Never.” 

“ I suppose you go home sometimes — to your uncle’s, I 
mean?” 

“ Oh, yes; I shall be going down there at Christmas.” 

“ Come, that’s better!” cried the young man, cheerfully. 
“ I’ll get them to ask me down, too.” And after shaking 
hands with somewhat unnecessary warmth, he departed. 

As soon as he was out of hearing. Mills, whose face was 
bright with pleasure and excitement, and who during the 
above colloquy had found time to construct a complete 
romance, exclaimed: ‘ 4 My dear, what a beautiful young 
gentleman!” 

Hope laughed. “ He is a nice sort of boy,” she said; 
“ I don’t think he is particularly beautiful. ” 

Nevertheless, she did think so, and indeed could hardly 
have thought anything else. Also she had a suspicion that 
he admired her very much, and his admiration was not al- 
together disagreeable to her. Is there any woman living 
to whom the admiration of a beautiful young gentleman 
would be disagreeable? Hope was very far from setting 
possibilities before herself in the uncompromising fashion 
adopted by Mills; but more than once in the course of the 
next few days she found herself wondering when and where 
she would next meet Captain Cunningham, and by what 
means he proposed to get himself invited to Helston Abbey. 

It was not by such mere details that Captain Cunning- 
ham was likely to be baffled. His acquaintance with Mr. 
Lefroy and Lady Jane was only a slight one, it was true; 
but if he did not know them very well, he knew numbers 


Cl A bachelor's blunder. 

of people with whom they were intimate, and his experience 
had taught him that an invitation to a country house may 
easily be obtained in many ways by a resolute man. He 
had, however, a conscience; which conscience told him that 
he oudit not to seek for this particular invitaton. The 
fact that he had fallen profoundly in love with Hope Lefroy 
(he had been profoundly in love once or twice before) did 
not, he felt, justify him in pursuing her. He had no 
money worth mentioning, and it appeared that she was 
now in the same undesirable predicament. Conscience, 
therefore — or was it prudence, perhaps? — waved him im- 
peratively away from her. In this strait he followed the 
dictates of his nature and confided his trouble to a certain 
lady friend of his, whose advice was prompt and unhesi- 
tating : 

“ You will please not to make a fool of yourself," this 
^worldly wise lady said; “ and, as I can't trust you out of 
my sight, I will take very good care that you spend your 
Christmas with us." 

It is thus that worldly-wise ladies often succeed in pre- 
paring the way for all kinds of catastrophes. 


CHAPTTER VIII. 

MR. HERBERT ON MARRIAGE. 

Man is born to labor and sorrow, as the sparks fly up- 
ward. The majority of us have so many serious troubles 
and anxieties that we accept the minor miseries of sup- 
pressed gout, unpaid bills, tedious acquaintances, corns and 
the like, as incidental to our mortal lot, and have neither 
time nor disposition to grumble at them. But when a man 
has everything in the world to make him happy; when he 
is healthy and wealthy, and has a modest conviction that 
he is also wise; when his eldest daughter is about to be 
married to an altogether unexceptionable viscount; when 
his yearly bills are all made beautiful by receipt-stamps, 
and when he has not so much as a corn to complain of, it 
is but natural that he should resent very deeply any trifling 
worry that may intrude upon his bliss, and think it hal’d 
that he should be afflicted with a wrong-headed niece. 

This is why Mr. Lefroy, after welcoming Hope back to 
Helston with appropriate Christmas greetings, hastened to 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


65 


promote the merriment of the season by adding emphatic- 
ally: “ And now I do trust that we have heard the last of 
this nonsense.” 

Hope wished to know what nonsense. 

“ Why, this picture-painting and- starving frowsy Lon- 
don lodgings.” 

“ Indeed, they are not frowsy,” said Hope. 

“ Very well, they are not frowsy; but they are lodgings 
and you starved in them. Don’t say you didn’t, because I 
know better. You have actually paid back to my bankers 
the^ wretched little sum I gave you before you left us. 
Now, I must say I think that is rathej* too bad!” 

“ Please don’t be angry, Uncle Montague; it is only that 
I do want to live upon my own resources, if I can. ” 

“ My dear, I am not the least angry; but I am bothered, 
and I can’t for the life of me see why you should wish to 
bother me in this way. Do you think it is pleasant to be 
asked by every single person who comes to the house what 
my niece is doing, and to be obliged to reply: c Oh, she is 
up in London, trying to keep body and soul together by 
painting pictures?’ I put it to you as a sensible girl —do 
you think it is pleasant?” 

“ Is that the answer that you make. Uncle Montague?” 

“No; but it’s what they understand. And then they 
say 4 Poor girl!’ and look pensive. You must admit that 
this is a little trying to a well-meaning uncle, who only 
asks to be allowed to do his duty. ’ ’ 

“ There is a well-meaning niece in the case who wants 
to be allowed to do hers,” observed Hope. 

She was not going to give in ; but she perceived that 
there were breakers ahead, and it was fortunate for her 
that her aunt and cousins were just now fully occupied 
with Alice’s engagement and approaching marriage to 
Lord Middleborough. The bride-elect, to whose lot had 
fallen the rare privilege of pleasing her family and consult- 
ing her own inclinations at one and the same time, was in 
an excusable condition of glee, and could hardly be ex- 
pected to interest herself much at such a moment in her 
cousin’s artistic career, which, indeed, neither she nor her 
sister had ever taken quite seriously. When, in the midst 
of a grave discussion as to the colors to be worn by the 
bride-maids at the coming nuptials, Alice interrupted her- 
self to remark: “ Of course you will come with us to Lon- 


66 


A BACHELOR o BLUNDER. 


don in February, Hope?” and when Hope replied that she 
intended to return to London long before the date men- 
tioned, both the girls laughed, assuring her that she could 
not do such a thing as that. The doctor haying prescribed 
a total change of surroundings for her, there had been a 
reason to give for her leaving Helston in the autumn; but 
she was well again now, and it would never do for her to 
be living in Henrietta Street while her relations were in 
Eaton Square. People would think it so odd. 

“ Does it matter what people think?” Hope asked. 

To which absurd question her cousins replied wondering- 
ly: “Of course it does, dear — it’s the one thing that does 
matter.” 

The proposition was to them so self-evident that they 
were unable to understand how so talented a girl as Hope 
could fail to grasp it; while she, on her side, found it sim- 
ply incredible that any human being should shape the 
course of his or her life in submission to the prej udices of 
a few careless gossips. The best plan was to say no more 
about it, and luckily there were many other subjects to be 
talked about. 

A considerable number of visitors were already in the 
house, and more were expected. Lord Middleborough, an 
amiable, unremarkable young man, with large possessions, 
arrived on Christmas-eve, as did also various members of the 
Lefroy clan, who had been wont to consider Helston a dull- 
ish house in by-gone days, and who appeared to be pleased 
with the new regime; but there was one person who did not 
come, and Hope could not help wondering why he didn^t. 
She mentioned casually to Gertrude that she had met Cap- 
tain Cunningham one day in London, and asked whether 
they had heard anything of him lately. The reply that she 
received was not wholly satisfactory to her. 

“ Oh, no,” Gertrude answered; “ we never hear of him 
when we are in the country, except sometimes from Dick 
Herbert, who is rather a friend of his. People said at one 
time that he was going to marry Dick^s sister, who is an 
heiress. Captain Cunningham is the kind of man vdio is 
sure to marry an heiress some day; but I suppose he will 
put it off as long as he can. ” 

“ Things are made very hard for the poor heiresses,” 
Hope remarked. “ I am glad I am not one any longer.” 

“ Things are much more often made hard for those who. 


A bachelor's blunder. 67 

are not heiresses," rejoined Gertrude; and there seemed to 
be something to be said in support of that view. 

But Hope trusted that things were not going to be made 
hard for her just yet. Her uncle, after his first little 
querulous outburst, left her in peace; and her aunt, as she 
fondly imagined, was too busy with her guests and future 
son-in-law to think about anybody or anything else. Lady 
Jane, however, was quite capable of thinking about a good 
many things simultaneously. She had received a hint 
from her husband, and was by no means so indifferent as 
she appeared to be. 

44 Well," she said, rather sharply, to the doctor, who was 
invited to dinner on Christmas-day, 44 your prescription has 
had no effect." 

44 Really, my dear lady," replied the man of medicine, 
blandly, 44 I don't think you ought to say that. Miss Lefroy 
is looking quite well and strong again. " 

44 I don't speak of her bodily health. She is not cured 
of her complaint; and you promised that she should be." 

4 4 Oh, pardon me, I made no promises. And, if you re- 
member, a year was the period of absence which was found 
successful in the case that I cited to you. " 

44 It is utterly and absolutely impossible for me to send 
my niece away for a year," returned Lady Jane, pettishly. 

44 Then neither my prescription nor I must be blamed if 
the patient has a relapse. Seriously, I don't see how you 
can have expected her to become discouraged so soon. A 
month or two at sea may be enough to cure a lad of wishing 
to be a sailor; but a month or two in comfortable quarters 
in London is hardly enough to cure a young lady of aspiring 
to be an artist. You should have given her time to fail." 

44 But I am not sure that she would have failed. Be- 
sides, a girl's time is really too valuable to be wasted in 
that way. Ho; I am much obliged to you, but I shall try 
another prescription now. " 

The doctor smiled. He guessed what the prescription 
would be, and was not concerned to dispute its efficiency. 
Doubtless it would be better for the poor girl to marry 
Gian to fail or succeed in her effort to support herself. 
The only question was whether she would consent to accept 
a husband of her aunt's choosing. 

Lady Jane wrote out her prescription, and sent it off the 
very next morning. It ran as follows: 


68 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


“ My dear Dick, — I wish you would run down here 
for a few days. I say a few days, because I am afraid you 
will not be persuaded to remain longer; but I need not tell 
you how pleased we shall be if you care to stay on. You 
can hunt three times a week easily from here, and Mr. 
Lefroy wishes me to add that he has stabling for as many 
horses as you like to bring. Hope is with us now, and that 
is one reason why I want you to come; because you seem 
better able than any one else to amuse her and draw away 
her thoughts from her father’s death, which she has not 
yet got over, I fear. I took your advice and let her go up 
to London by herself for some time; but it was a danger- 
ous experiment, and I don’t think it has succeeded very 
well. Do let me have a line to say that you will come, and 
“ Believe me, 

“ Always affectionately yours, 

“Jane Lefroy . ** 

In due course of time Mr. Herbert telegraphed “All 
right;” and Lady Jane, who had not been quite sure that 
her invitation would be accepted, considered this somewhat 
unceremonious reply as a good omen. Perhaps it would 
be all right, she thought: after all, why should it not be? 
A glow of legitimate pride came over her as she reflected 
upon the triumph of capturing so confirmed a bachelor as 
Dick Herbert. “ He certainly admired Hope very much 
when he was here before,” she said to herself, “ and I 
doubt whether he would come back again if he did not 
mean something. Oh, what a mercy it will be if he does!” 

But the vexatious thing about 1 his man was that, al- 
though he had an established character for plain dealing 
and practiced' plain speaking to an extent which bordered 
upon the offensive, it was not always as easy as it ought to 
have been to discover exactly what he meant. What, for 
instance, did he mean by such a speech as this? 

“I’m awfully glad that Alice is making such a good 
match, and I congratulate you with all my heart, you 
know; but at the same time I wish you hadn’t asked me to 
come here until the business was over. It’s enough to give 
anybody the blues to see poor Middleborofigii iff ms present 
deplorable condition. ” >■ ' 

This was about the only remark that he addressed to 
Lady Jane on the evening of his arrivaj- and, having made 


A bachelor's blunder. 


69 


it; he walked away, feigning not to hear her when she 
called out to him to come hack and explain himself. Tp 
Hope, however, he deigned to unfold his sentiments at 
somewhat greater length. 

“ I do think," he announced to her, “ that to marry for 
love is about the most idiotic thing that anybody can do. " 

He sunk down, as he spoke, upon the sofa at the end of 
the long drawing-room where Hope was sitting alone, her 
hands lying idle in her lap and her eyes fixed pensively 
upon the betrothed couple, who had withdrawn into a 
remote corner and were pretending to play chess. She 
turned, with a look of surprise, to her neighbor. 

“ Why is it idiotic?" she asked. “ I should have thought 
there couldn't be a better reason for marrying. " 

“Oh, I've no doubt you would have thought so," an- 
swered Herbert, a trifle irritably; “ at your age one does 
think so. After one has kept one's eyes open for a con- 
siderable number of years one knows better. To begin 
with, it's such a one-sided business. Nearly always it is 
the man who is in love, and if, by any chance, it happens 
to be the woman, so much the worse for her." 

Hope made no reply, but glanced significantly at her 
cousin and Lord Middleborough and smiled. 

“ Oh, well," resumed Herbert, “I didn't say always; 
I said nearly always. It may happen that both are in 
love; but what then? What is falling in love? It's a 
pleasant sort of experience, taking it altogether, and of 
course it becomes delightful if your love is returned, or if 
you fancy that it is returned. But to marry because you 
are in love is illogical. A man who does that is very apt 
to wake up some fine morning, and find he has tied himself 
for life to a vixen or a fool or a flirt." 

“ What would you have people marry for, then?" in- 
quired Hope. “ For money?" 

“ I have known people who have done so and haven't 
regretted it. At any rate, they have got all that they ex- 
pected, don't you see? The great thing is to have a clear 
understanding before you start, and if one of you, or both 
of you, are in love, that's an impossibility." 

“ I don't think I should care to have the future put be- 
fore me in that cut-and-dried way," said Hope. “ I would 
rather take my chance of disappointment. If any one 
offered to tell me now exactly what prospect I have of be- 


70 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


coming an artist I should stop my ears. Some day or other 
I must know the worst or the best; but I don’t want to 
know yet. ” 

“ Your character seems to be the opposite of mine/’ re- 
marked Herbert; “ I like to face things.” 

By and by he asked: “ What do your masters say to 
you:” 

“I have only one master, Mr. Tristram, and he says 
very little.” 

“ Oh; and what does your uncle say:’’ 

11 Nothing encouraging. I am afraid I shall have to 
light another battle before I go back to London. ” 

Herbert stretched out his long legs and looked at his 
feet. “ I rather think,” said he, deliberately, “ that you 
will get beaten.” 

“ If you do think so it is not very kind to say so,” re- 
turned Hope, with a flash of anger in her eyes. “ I have 
won one battle; why should I not win another:” 

“ Only because in your particular case it is easier to win 
one victory than two. Why can’t you stay here till Febru- 
ary, and then go up with the others?” 

“ You know why — and I did not expect you to turn 
against me,” answered Hope, still much incensed against 
her former supporter. 

“ Yes,” said Herbert, with a sigh, “ I know. But. all 
the same, I am bound to confess that if I were your uncle I 
should not let you leave Helston again. tPeople are sure to 
talk. In fact, they have begun talking already. ’ ’ 

“ I thought you didn’t care what people said?” 

. “ We all care really. We may pretend that we don’t; 
but we do. Young Cunningham told me the other day 
that he had met you in Hyde Park, and that you were liv- 
ing in lodgings somewhere all by yourself, and he wanted 
to know the meaning of it. I dare say he has been asking 
everybody.” 

“ I don’t see why there need be any mystery about the 
matter,” answered Hope; “it isn’t disgraceful.” She 
hesitated for a moment before adding : “ Do you know Cap- 
tain Cunningham well?” 

“ Yes: about as well as one knows a man with whom one 
has nothing much in common. Why do you ask?” 

He opened his eyes a hair’s-breadth wider than usual and 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


71 


fixed them upon his questioner, who, to her annoyance, felt 
herself coloring slightly. 

“ I don’t know/’ she replied. “ The girls told me that 
he was a friend of yours, and I wondered whether it could 
be true. As you say, you and he are — are — not at all like 
one another.” 

“ He is a very pleasant sort of a fellow,” said Herbert, 
briefly. He looked as if he wer~ 1 1 



but apparently thought better 


talked a great deal more than he was wont to do in one 
evening, relapsed into silence. 

It is proverbial that silence is often eloquent, and like- 
wise that there are persons who sometimes shine by their 
absence. If Captain Cunningham had desired to be as 
much in Miss Lefroy’s thoughts as she was in his own at 
this time, he could not have adopted a wiser course than to 
deny himself a visit to Helston Abbey, nor could Fortune 
have served him better than by sending thither a friend of 
his who never spoke ill of the absent, and who, when he 
could not say much good of them, held his tongue. 


CHAPTER IX. 


AN ALTERNATIVE. 


Helston Abbey would accommodate some thirty visitors 
or more, and indeed had frequently done so in former 
times. Under the rule of its late owner, as has already 
been said, the greater part of its bedrooms had remained 
unoccupied from year’s end to year’s end; but now it was 
beginning to recover its ancient character for hospitality. 
Not, of course, that a renewal of the revels of a by-gone 
generation, when guests were considered to be slighting 
their host if they displayed anything like hurry in their de- 
parture, was possible or desired. The present Mr. Lefroy 
and his wife had always been smart sort of people mixing- 
in smart society, and their hospitality was of the modern 
kind. The friends who partook of their excellent dinners, 
shot their pheasants, and danced in the picture-gallery, 
which had been converted into a ball-room, would have been 
bored, perhaps, if they had been pressed to prolong their 
visit beyond three days; at any rate they could not have 
yielded to pressure, because they were always going on 


72 


A bachelor's blunder. 


somewhere else. Arrivals and departures took place every 
day; strange faces were forever appearing and disappear- 
ing; husbands came without their wives and wives without 
their husbands, which seemed to Hope an odd thing, and 
the general effect of it all was to her very fatiguing and be- 
wildering. 

IShe asked her uncle once whether he did not find it so; 
but he said: “ Oh, no; I’m accustomed to it, you see, and 
it doesn't go on all the year round. We can put up more 
lodgers here than we could at Southcote, so I dare say it will 
come to an end sooner. Besides,. I never bother myself. 
If I don't remember people's names, I avoid calling them 
anything until I find out who they are, and your aunt tells 
me if there is something particular that I ought to say to 
them. " 

Mr. Lefroy rather overstated the case against himself. 
He had a pretty good memory and generally managed to 
say the right thing to the right person, without being 
prompted. If he did not put himself much out of the way 
to entertain his guests, he was always genial and pleasant, 
and welcomed them as if he were glad to see them — and, 
for %at matter, so he was. He liked society; he liked 
talking at certain hours of the day; only it made very little 
difference to him whether the person with whom he was 
conversing was called Peter or Paul; nor did he, as a rule, 
notice of what units the crowd around his dinner- table 
might chance to be composed. 

One thing, however, he did end by observing, and that 
was that while others came and went Dick Herbert re- 
mained immovable. This discovery rather pleased him; 
for he knew very well that Dick Herbert would not stay so 
long without a reason, and it was easy to surmise what that 
reason must be. It would indeed be a good thing if Dick 
and Hope should take a fancy to one another; but Mr. 
Lefroy, who had seen a great deal of the world, and whose 
character had a strong vein of good-humored cynicism in 
it, was aware that men frequently take fancies to girls with- 
out going the extreme length of proposing to them. More- 
over, he suspected that Hope would require to be very de- 
cidedly in love with a man indeed before she would consent 
to marry him. He had the curiosity to watch the pair, 
and was forced to the conclusion that, although they were 
constantly together and seemed to enjoy each other's com- 


a bachelor's blunder. 


n 


pany, they were not as yet lovers. As to Dick, one could 
not speak with any certainty, because he was such an un- 
demonstrative fellow; but Hope had little power of hiding 
her feelings, and her feeling for this very worthy gentleman 
and large landed proprietor was too evidently one of friend- 
ship only. 

“ Nothing will come of it," Mr. Lefroy said to himself, 
and sighed; for it would have been most convenient in every 
way if something could have been made to come of it. 

Lady Jane was far from sharing his despondent view. 
She was too busy to pay attention to details; the fact that 
Dick Herbert had stayed a whole fortnight in the house was 
sufficient for her, and when she had time to think about 
her niece at all, she . thought of her with fond affection. 
The dear girl had seemed disposed to be odd and trouble- 
some at first; but she was clearly bent upon doing the right 
thing now, and her aunt's blessing awaited her. She had 
only to come and ask for it, coupling with her request that 
announcement which Lady Jane conceived that she had 
now every right to expect. 

All the more profound, therefore, were her ladyship's 
disgust and disappointment when, one evening toward the 
middle of January, Hope followed her into her bedroom, 
after the party had broken up for the night, to say — not 
that she was engaged to Mr. Herbert, but that she proposed 
returning to London forthwith. 

“ I wish," Lady Jane exclaimed, somewhat sharply, 
“ that you would not talk such absurd nonsense! You 
will go to London with us next month; but sooner than 
that you can not go. I thought your uncle had explained 
it all to you. " 

“ It is very unkind of you to wish to keep me, Aunt 
Jane," answered the girl, preserving an appearance of 
calmness, though she was inwardly a good deal alarmed; 
“ but I ought not to waste any more time. I really must 
go to-morrow or the day after." 

“ My dear, ‘ must ' is hardly a proper word for you to 
use; it is an ugly word, and I would much rather not use 
it myself. I prefer to ask you why you are so anxious to 
leave us all of a sudden? It seemed to me that you were 
enjoying yourself here. Has anything occurred to — dis- 
tress you?" 

Lady Jane was not going to make the mistake of men- 


74 


A bachelor's blunder. 


tioning Dick Herbert's name; but she thought that if there 
had been a lover's quarrel she had better find out about it, 
with a view to effecting a reconciliation. 

But Hope was apparently unconscious of her meaning. 
“ I have no reason except the old one," she answered: “ I 
want to get on with my work, and I want to earn my daily 
bread as soon as I can." 

“ Really, Hope, you have no business to say such things, 
and I sincerely trust that you don't say them to other peo- 
ple. There is not, and there never was or will be, any 
question of your earning your daily bread. I don't for a 
moment suppose that you could do it, if you tried; but your 
uncle will certainly not allow you to try. I think you are 
apt to forget that he is your guardian. ' ' 

Hope did not forget it at all; nor did she forget w 7 ho 
ruled her guardian. She sunk on her knees beside the 
arm-chair in which Lady J ane was sitting, and pleaded, as 
eloquently as she knew how, to be permitted to have her 
own way in this thing. She believed that she had some 
talent for painting, she said; if she had not, Mr. Tristram 
would soon tell her, and then she would promise to give up 
all thought of becoming an artist. Only let her have a few 
more months of probation; that was all she asked. She 
was convinced that if her father were alive he would ap- 
prove of her intentions; and surely Uncle Montague might 
be brought to consent! 

She was very much in earnest; her pleading was pretty 
and pathetic; and Lady Jane, who was not more hard- 
hearted than another, was touched by it. But one must 
not neglect one's duty because one is touched, and every- 
body knows that good-natured weakness is often more cruel 
than severity. Eor these reasons Lady Jane straightened 
herself in her chair, knitted her brows, put up her eye- 
glasses, and said: “ Hope, do you know what is your great- 
est fault?" 

“ Yes," answered Hope; “ it is pride." 

“No, my dear; selfishness. You say ‘I want this — I 
want that;' you don't consider what the effect of your fol- 
lowing your fancies would be upon others. Why, if your 
uncle and I allowed you to live apart from us and paint 
pictures for a livelihood, as though you were a pauper — " 

“lama pauper," interjected Hope. 

“ That is not the question; and please allow me to fin- 


A bachelor's blunder. 


75 


ish. I say that if we did that, we should be simply exe- 
crated! Even as it is, disagreeable things have been said. 
That horrid old Lady Chatterton has gone about telling 
everybody that I won't have you in the house because you 
" are prettier than Gertrude. I do think it is hard upon me!" 

“But, Aunt Jane, nobody would believe such false- 
hoods." 

“ That is exactly where you are mistaken, my dear; 
everybody believes falsehoods. " 

And from that startling position Lady Jane declined to 
be drawn. Hope exhausted argument and entreaty in vain. 
Her aunt listened to her, but was always ready with the 
same conclusive reply. What she asked for could not be 
given to her. Her request was unreasonable; but even if 
it had been reasonable, that would have made no differ- 
ence : the one important thing was that Lady Chatterton 
should not be given an excuse for being ill-natured. She 
closed the interview by saying: “Believe me, my dear, 
there is no cure but marriage for girls who are bitten with 
a longing for independence. Marriage does not make them 
independent; but if they have good husbands, they learn to 
be content with dependency." 

Hope went away defeated and dejected, and from that 
evening she began to look forward to the future with less 
confident eyes. She might think that her aunt was at least 
as selfish as she was; but she was obliged to admit that an 
impartial person would probably pronounce her aunt to be 
in the right. Mr. Herbert was an impartial person, and 
she could get no comfort out of him. When she told him 
of her troubles and fears, he looked distressed, but did not 
seem to think that there was any thing for it but submission. 
More than once she said to herself that it might be better, 
after all, to give up crying for the moon. Her lot was the 
common lot, and how was she to escape from it if nobody 
would back her up? To live at Helstone all her days would 
be intolerable ; but there always remained the alternative of 
the good husband. The good husband, she supposed, 
meant a rich husband. Johnson's dictionary defines 
“ good " as “ fit; proper; convenient " — a definition which 
would doubtless be concurred in by Lady Jane. Love, 
fancy, ambition — all these things are very well for such as 
can afford to indulge in them; but they are not fit, proper, 
or convenient for young ladies of limited income. Life is 


76 


A bachelor's blunder. 


hard; life is practical; “ most friendship is feigning, most 
loving mere folly;" and nothing signifies very much, ex- 
cept that one should cease to be a burden upon one's rela- 
tions, and that the mouth of Lady Chatterton should be 
stopped. 

This gloomy survey of existence was encouraged by many 
little unintentional slights, by continual unavoidable re- 
minders of the changed order of things, by a sense of utter 
loneliness for which nobody was to blame. It may even be 
that a few careless words overheard one evening at the din- 
ner-table had something to do with it. 

* 4 So little Mrs. Pierpoint has established herself at Mel- 
ton this year, I hear, " somebody said. “ Pierpoint 's abroad 
—■gone away for his health." 

“ Leaving Bertie Cunningham in charge, eh?" said 
somebody else, with a laugh. 

“Well, he is riding Pierpoint' s horses, anyhow. How 
far he replaces him in other ways I don't know." 

“ The woman is old enough to be his mother," remarked 
a third. 

“ Oh, not quite that! And she has a long string of 
hunters. I dare say Bertie gets a holiday every now and 
then and consoles himself. " 

Now, the doings of Captain Cunningham and little Mrs. 
Pierpoint, whoever she might be, could, of course, be no 
concern of Miss Lefroy's; only when one has allowed one's 
self to feel a certain interest in and regard for an indi- 
vidual, it is dispiriting to learn that he is an entirety worth- 
less person; and if one happens to be young and impatient, 
one is apt to be led by such discoveries into judging a whole 
class from a single specimen. So Hope thought that she 
was making acquaintance with the world, and that the 
world, taking it as a whole, was a poor sort of place. It is 
not at the age of nineteen that one can admit the existence 
of intermediate shades between black and white. 

In the course of a few days it came to pass that Mr. Le- 
froy gave a great hunt-breakfast. He himself was no 
longer a hunting-man, but most of his guests were; besides, 
many people may be invited to such entertainments to 
whom it is difficult to show civility in any other way. 
Therefore the county at large was asked, and responded 
with alacrity. The celebrated pack assembled on the lawn 
and was admired from the windows; and the master of the 


A bachelok's blundek. 


77 


hounds made himself agreeable to Hope by saying cheerily: 
4 4 Well, Miss Lefroy, this is more like it, isn't it? I never 
expected to see such a lot of pink coats inside Helston. 
And, pray, why haven't you got your riding-habit on?” 

Hope had not put on her riding-habit because she was 
not going to hunt; and she was not going to hunt for rea- 
sons which the worthy M. F. H. might have divined, if he 
• had not been just a little bit dense. In old days hunting, 
or at least riding to the meet and seeing something of the 
hunt, had been one of her chief pleasures during the winter 
months; but then in the old days her father had been with 
her, and she had had horses of her own. She had, indeed, 
horses of her own still; only she did not choose to consider 
them so. Perhaps her uncle was justified in thinking this 
perverse and silly of her, and perhaps her cousins had a 
right to express their annoyance with her for preferring to 
stay at home when everybody else was going to the covert- 
side. Lady Jane said nothing, but Lady Jane happened to 
know that her niece was not going to stay at home. 

The hounds and hunt-servants had moved away; the 
field had followed, and Hope was standing at the window 
watching, rather disconsolately, the last of the carriages as 
it disappeared round the bed of the drive, when a voice be- 
hind her remarked: “ I suppose we might as well be start- 
ing now, might we not?” 

Hope turned round and saw, to her surprise, Mr. Her- 
bert, in his ordinary dress, standing at her elbow. “You 
here!" she exclaimed. “ Aren't you going to hunt?" 

“ No; going to drive you in a pony-trap," he replied 
laconically. “The old lady's orders," he added, byway 
of explanation. 

“ I)o you mean to say that Aunt Jane asked you to take 
me?" cried Hope. “ How nice of her!" 

She went away to put on her hat with a more cheerful 
countenance than she had worn of late. She was glad that 
she was not to be left behind, and still more glad that any 
one should have been considerate enough to understand 
that she might like to see the meet, though she could not 
quite bring herself to go thither on horseback, as of old. 
“ Poor Aunt Jane!” she mused; “ I suppose she means to 
be kind." 

Lady Jane undoubtedly meant to be kind; but if Hope 
had had any suspicion of what her aunt's motives were for 


78 


a bachelor's blunder. 


depriving Mr. Herbert of a day's hunting, she would have 
felt less grateful. She was, however, very far from guess- 
ing the truth. It had never crossed her mind that Mr. Her- 
bert could be the potential good husband to whom Lady 
Jane had made allusion. She liked the man, preferring 
his society to that of any one else in the house, and believ- 
ing him to be sincerely her friend ; she was always willing 
to walk or drive with him, and the more so because their 
intimacy had -now reached that pleasant stage at which the 
making of conversation is no longer necessary, and silence 
is permissible. 

Of this privilege Herbert was accustomed to avail him- 
self extensively. He never opened his lips after Hope had 
seated herself beside him in the little two-wheeled basket- 
carriage, but devoted his attention to sending the pony 
along at a pace rapid enough to enable them to overtake 
the rest of the party, who had got a considerable start. 
Hope, for her part, did not care to talk. She was content 
to sit still and think her own thoughts, as she was borne 
past the familiar trees and fields and hedge-rows which she 
loved so much, and which sometimes seemed to her to be 
stonily indifferent and sometimes tenderly regretful, accord- 
ing as her own mood might chance to be. It was one of 
those still, misty, silver-gray days when all outlines are in- 
distinctrand the earth gives out a pleasant, fresh smell, and 
every twig has its tiny crystal dew-drop. The smoke rose 
straight from the cottage chimneys, the wind-mill on the 
common was motionless, even the jackdaws that lived in 
the gray church-tower were silent. Hope had an inward 
greeting for them all. “ Good-bye, church; good-bye, jack- 
daws; good-bye, dear old mill!" She was always saying 
good-bye to these old friends, though it was likely enough 
that she would see them many times again. Perhaps it was 
not so much to them as to her old life that she was bidding 
farewell; to the old life which was slipping away from her 
— the very memory of it even growing dim — and upon 
which she was ineffectually trying to keep a lingering hold. 

She was sorry when the drive was over, and when she 
was once more among the spruce, well-turned-out men and 
women who looked as if they would have been so much 
more in their proper place in Belgravia than at Helston. 
But she was not detained long in the company of the dow- 
agers; for Herbert got somebody to open a gate for him, 


A bachelor's blunder. 


79 


and drove her across the grass to the side of the spinney 
in which the hounds were, and whither the heavier vehicles 
could not follow. They had not arrived upon the scene a 
minute too soon, for almost immediately the fox broke 
cover. The field, a somewhat large one, went streaming 
away down-hill, and the pony, excited by the thunder of 
hoofs, and profiting by the inattention of his driver, 
plunged suddenly forward and made a bolt for it. How- 
ever, he was pulled up, after a good deal of bumping and 
jolting, by the strong arms of Dick Herbert, who did not 
appear to think the episode worthy of comment, but only 
asked: 4 4 Are we to go home now?" 

“ I suppose so," Hope answered, rather reluctantly. 

“ Do you want to go home?" he inquired; and when she 
said, “ No," he rejoined, “All right, then; we'll make a 
round. I dare say you know the roads hereabout well 
enough to tell me if I go wrong. " 

After this he did not speak again for a long time. It 
was not until they had traversed some miles of road, and 
the pony had been eased up a hill, that he turned to his 
companion and said abruptly: “Well?" 

Hope started out of a day-dream and looked up at him, 
smiling. “ Well?" she returned. 

“ I mean how are you getting on? Are you at all more 
resigned to things than you were?" 

“No," answered Hope, becoming grave again, “not 
yet. I feel that there is just the shadow of a chance that I 
may be able to talk Uncle Montague over. When that is 
done, I dare say I shall realize that what can't be cured 
must be endured. " 

“ Oh! he won't be talked over," said Herbert; “ your 
chance was with Lady Jane, and I'm afraid that is disposed 
of now!" 

“Iam afraid so," assented Hope. 

There was a pause of a minute or two, and then Herbert 
resumed: “ Miss Lefroy, I have a proposition to make to 
you. I don’t know whether it will startle you or not; but 
there is really no reason why it should. I take it that what 
you want is to get away from Helston, if possible by setting 
up an establishment of your own, but anyhow to get away. 
Well, as I told you before, the only way in which you can 
manage that is by marrying somebody; and what I was 
thinking was, how* would it be if you were to marry me?" 


80 


a bachelor's blunder. 


This most unexpected proposal, and the perfect com- 
posure and slight drawl with which it was enunciated, took 
Hope so much aback that she hardly realized the meaning 
of the words. “ What?" she ejaculated. 

“ -I say, how would it be if you were to marry me? You 
might just think it over. I wouldn't suggest it if I could 
see any other way out of the difficulty; but I can't. We 
have been capital friends from the first; you would be al- 
lowed to have your own way pretty well in everything, and 
I believe T am a’ very easy sort of fellow to live with. Be- 
sides, I dare say I should be a good deal away from home. " 

Hope burst out laughing. “ I never heard anything so 
funny!" she exclaimed. And then, becoming suddenly 
serious, “ Mr. Herbert, do you really suppose that I should 
allow you or anybody else to marry me out of charity? I 
don't quite know whether I ought to be angry or grateful; 
but I think I am grateful to you. Only, of course, I can't 
accept your offer." 

“ There's no need to be angry, or grateful either," said 
Herbert, placidly. “ It's a sort of mutual accommoda- 
tion business, don't you see? I have always felt that I 
should have to marry some day, and if you won't have me, 
I shall probably fall into the jaws of some London girl who 
will — well, play the deuce generally. As for you, depend 
upon it, you won't be able to remain unmarried much 
longer. You may think you will, just as you thought you 
might live in a studio in London; but you'll find that cir- 
cumstances and Lady Jane will be too many for you. And 
I can't help thinking that you might chance upon a worse 
husband than I should be." 

“ But, Mr. Herbert," objected Hope, half laughing, 
and coloring a little, “ I may be old-fashioned, only it does 
seem to me that there can be no happiness in marriages 
where there is no love. " 

4 4 Yes, I know; but I differ from you there, and you'll 
allow that I have seen more of the world than you have. 
There ought to be liking, I admit; people ought to be able 
to get on together when they are married. But you may 
be furiously in love and yet not get on together a bit — I've 
seen it scores of times. The fact is, that that kind of thing 
seldom lasts. After a year or so it is just as if you had 
never been in love at all; and where are you then, you 
know? It's a regular cat-and-dog sort of life very often. I 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


81 


give you my word/’ lie added with more earnestness, “ that 
I would never dream of asking you to do this if I didn’t 
believe that it would be for your happiness in the long run.” 

Hope made no reply. Should she reject this helping 
hand that was held out to her or not? A few weeks ago 
she would have laughed to scorn any one who should have 
suggested that she could hesitate in such a case. She, of 
all people in the world, to make a marriage of convenience! 
“ A sort of mutual accommodation business!” She would 
have shuddered at the bare thought. But she did not shud- 
der now. Her eyes had been opened, or she thought that 
they had ; she had lost confidence in herself and in the 
future. Romance was not for her. It was by no means 
unlikely that some day circumstances and Lady Jane might, 
as Herbert predicted, force her into marrying a man for 
whom she did not care; and, as far as mere liking went, 
she certainly did like her present dispassionate wooer very 
much. 

“ What do you think of it:” he asked, after giving her 
plenty of time for reflection. 

“ I don’t know,” she answered, with a deep sigh. “ Even 
if I wished to accept, I am not sure that I ought.” 

“ Well, don’t accept, and don’t refuse; that’s the best 
way. I’ll tell you what you might do,” he added present- 
ly; “ you might make it conditional. Suppose you were to 
go back to London for a time, and see whether there is 
really any chance of your succeeding as an artist? If you 
find that there is, you can afford to wait until you are of 
age, and the engagement shall be off; if not, you might 
take me as a pis-aller. I would arrange it all with your 
people. They won’t like to prevent your going, because I 
shall explain to them that, if they do, I shall look upon 
your refusal as final, and not repeat my offer. Do^you seer” 

Hope began to laugh again, though there were tears in 
her eyes. “ Do you know,” she said, looking up at her 
companion, “ that you are very odd? You seem to be 
thinking only of me; you don’t consider yourself.” 

“ I beg your pardon; I am considering myself the whole 
time. I want you to marry me. Indeed, I may say that I 
want it very much. It appears to me that we are suited 
to one another in many ways.” 

“ And are you quite sure that — that you don’t^ expect — ” 


82 


a bachelor's blender. 


16 Expect you to be in love with me? Certainly not. I 
know that that is impossible." 

“ There is nothing impossible about it/' returned Hope, 
with a touch of impatience; “ only it isn’t so. Ho you 
quite understand that it isn't so?" 

“ Quite, thanks. Now let us talk about something else. " 

And during the remainder of the drive they actually did 
converse much as usual, parting at the hall-door without 
any further reference to the half contract into which they 
had entered. 


CHAPTER X. 

AN UNKNOWN PATRON. 

The very first thing that Hope did, when she woke up 
in the morning and recalled the events of the previous day, 
was to take herself to task for her want of resolution in not 
having at once and decidedly refused Mr. Herbert. It was 
true that she had not accepted him; but she had as good as 
promised that she would do so, given certain conditions 
which were by no means unlikely to arise. And of course 
she could not marry him. She marveled at herself for 
having thought for one moment that she could. 

This was her first impression; but, while she was dress- 
ing, her mind passed through various other phases. The 
thought that this engagement — if it could be called an en- 
gagement — would enable her to escape, at least for a time, 
and to return to London, work and liberty, almost made 
her waver. If she sent Herbert about his business, what 
would there be to look forward to and to live for? Noth- 
ing. But, on the other hand, supposing that Mr. Tristram 
should tell her that she could never hope to rise above me- 
diocrity in her art? Could she then go back from her word 
and inform her suitor that, all things considered, she found 
it impossible to become his wife? Well, if she did, he 
would not break his heart, she supposed. An odd, and yet 
not unnatural, feeling of irritation took possession of her 
when she remembered how cool Herbert had been over it 
all, and how he had not thought it worth while even to hint 
that there could be any question of his being in love with 
her. “ Am I so very unattractive, then?" she asked her- 
self. 


a bachelor's blunder. 


83 


She was sitting before her looking-glass, which answered 
her question in language that could not be mistaken. And 
then, all of a sudden, there flitted before her the vision of a 
beautiful youth with dark hair and violet eyes. What made 
her remember Captain Cunningham at that moment?— and 
what had he to do with the subject about which she was 
thinking? These were questions which she would have 
preferred to shirk; but, under the circumstances, she felt 
that she must not allow herself to do so. Fortunately for 
her peace of mind, pride came to the rescue, and enabled 
her to give Captain Cunningham a contemptuous dismissal. 
She had only thought of him because he was so good-look- 
ing, and because he was a sort of embodiment of youth. If 
she were ever to fall in love, it might be. with somebody 
like him; but he, as an individual, would certainly never 
touch her heart. A mere boy — and a very silly and wicked 
sort of boy, too, by all accounts — no! she was in no danger 
of cherishing too fond a recollection of him. Mr. Herbert 
was at any rate a man; in all his words and habits he was 
thoroughly manly, and no one need ever be ashamed of 
such a husband. However, he was not to be her husband. 
She summed up with that conclusion and resolved that, 
immediately after breakfast, she would take him aside and 
let him know of it. 

But Fate had decreed that this opportunity of drawing 
back should be denied to her. Hick Herbert, who was less 
given to vacillation than she, had formally laid the case be- 
fore his host on the preceding evening and thus Hope, instead 
of taking her suitor aside when breakfast was over, was her- 
self taken aside by Lady Jane and led into Mr. Lefroy's 
study, where she was embraced and congratulated before 
she could get her breath. 

Lady Jane was radiant. “ My dear, I am so very, very 
glad! I quite anticipated this, and I am sure we could not 
wish to see you more happily established. Such a charming 
place! And although he has not a London house at pres- 
ent, there will be no difficulty about that, so far as money 
is concerned. Not that money signifies nearly as much as 
his being such a dear, kind fellow, and so high-principled. 
Poor Lady Chatterton! She used to try hard to get him for 
one of her daughters, and I am afraid she will be inconsola- 
ble now. " 

“ But, Aunt Jane/' interrupted Hope in dismay, “ you 


84 A BACHELORS BLUNDER. . 

talk as if it were all settled, and it isn’t settled a bit. I 
had no idea that Mr. Herbert had spoken to you. Didn’t 
he tell you that there were conditions?” 

“ Most senseless conditions, in my opinion,” observed 
Mr. Lefroy, who had seated himself at his writing-table, 
and who did not seem quite to share his wife’s rosy view of 
the situation. 

4 4 Such as they are, Mr. Herbert agreed to them,” re- 
turned Hope, fixing bayonets to receive the enemy. 

“ Yes, yes; we quite understand,” said Lady Jane sooth- 
ingly, while she patted her niece on the shoulder. “ We 
may think it rather a pity, but — well, never mind! No 
doubt all will come right in the end; and if you are so 
tired of us that you want to go off to-morrow, you can go. 
W e shall not prevent you. ” 

The fact was that Lady Jane was under no apprehension 
of her niece’s turning out to be a genius, nor did she fear 
that, even in that improbable event, there would be any 
rupture of the engagement; for she was a firm believer in 
the proverb of Chateau quiparle et femme qui ecoute. 

“ Well, now, you know, Hope,” said Mr. Lefroy, with 
his hands in his pockets, “all this is great bosh; but as 
you and Herbert seem to be of one mind about it, I sup- 
pose we must give in. I beg, however, to say that we, on 
our side, have a condition to impose. ” 

“ A very little one,” broke in Lady Jane; “ it is only 
that you come to us in Eaton Square next month.' Now, 
my dear, we can not hear any objection to that; we can 
not really. You must allow your uncle to be the best judge 
of what is right and proper for his ward, and I think you 
will admit that he is stretching a point in letting you leave 
us at all. As for your living apart from us in London, 
that is out of the question. It would create a positive scan- 
dal, and I am sure you would regret it afterward as much 
as we should. After all, what difference can it make to 
you? You will go on with your lessons just as before, if 
you choose, and you will not be interfered with in any way. 
Well, then that is arranged, and we need not bother your 
uncle any longer.” 

Mr. Lefroy rubbed his hands and looked thankful, and 
Hope felt that she could not, without extreme ungracious- 
ness, refuse to do as she was told. Nevertheless, she saw 
that her feet had become entangled in toils from which 


a bachelor's blunder. 85 

there might be^ very great difficulty in extricating them. 
“ Of course/' she said, turning to her aunt, “ you won't 
say a word about this to anybody. " 

“Really," answered Lady Jane, “ I don't see why we 
should make a secret of it. I hate mysteries. " 

“But it is not settled — it is not in the least settled!" 
cried Hope, vehemently. “ It is only a thing that may 
come to pass some day; and if people are told about it 
now, it shall never come to pass. Nobody can force me to 
marry. ' ' 

“ Very well, my dear, you need not be so fierce about it. 
My lips shall be closed until you give me leave to open 
them. Please remember that poor Mr. Herbert considers 
himself quite bound to you, that is all." 

“I don't wish him to consider himself bound in any 
way," Hope declared; and later in the day she found an 
opportunity of saying as much to Mr. Herbert himself, who 
laughed and replied, “ All right; if I meet with a more 
suitable person, I won't fail to let you know. " 

“ And I am to be free, too," insisted Hope. 

“ That is of course," he answered. “ I'm sorry you 
didn't like my speaking to your uncle. My only reason 
for doing so was that you wouldn't have been allowed to 
go away unless I had." 

This was undeniable, and Hope took some comfort to 
herself from the thought that she had at least gained a 
short spell of liberty. Being anxious that it should be no 
shorter than could be helped, she resolved to take Lady 
Jane at her word, wrote a hurried note to Mrs. Mills, spent 
the afternoon in packing, and came down-stairs early the 
next morning prepared to catch the first train to - London. 

She was not suffered to depart without some remon- 
strance, and there was a good deal of kissing and significant 
whispering to be gone through in the hall; but fortunately 
the majority of the guests had not yet left their rooms, so 
that there were few witnesses of these demonstrations. 
Herbert's leave-taking was characteristic. He sauntered 
down the steps as Hope was getting into the carriage and 
shook hands with her, saying, “ Good-bye, Miss Lefroy, 
and good luck to you. If you should feel inclined to drop 
me a line at any time, to say how you are getting on, I 
shall be much honored. My address is Farndon Court, 
Windsor. Good-bye !' ' 


86 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


And that was the last of Dick Herbert for the present. 

Readers of novels are found among all sorts and con- 
ditions of men. It must not be suggested that any one 
whose eye may chance to fall upon this page can ever have 
been let out of prison; but he may possibly remember to 
have been liberated from a fine old-fashioned quarantine 
station; or he may, years ago, have driven away for the 
holidays from a private school at which the fare was hard 
and the discipline vexatious (there are no such schools 
nowadays, it is said) ; or he may have set foot on shore 
after eight-and-forty hours of dire seasickness. It is at 
such times that one experiences the rare and delightful 
sensation of happiness in the present, without thought for 
the future. Hope’s reflections during the whole of her 
journey to London might have been summarized by a 
reiterated ejaculation of “ Heaven be praised, I am out of 
that!” 

She was — if anybody likes to say so — a little ungrateful 
to people who were doing their very best for her, according 
to their lights. She was wholly out of sympathy with 
them; the restrictions which governed their lives were new 
and galling to her; she could do justice to them in theory, 
but she could not, without misery, dwell with them in her 
old home. The little rdoms in Henrietta StreebVere a 
great deal more like home to her now. It was a joy to her 
to get back to them, to see Mills’s friendly, ugly face again, 
to sit down to tea and boiled eggs instead of dinner, to 
have to study economy once more, and to be delivered from 
the hands of officious maids. Even when she was sitting 
over the fire late at night and was beginning to take in the 
fact that to-morrow was at hand, and that to-morrow 
would be succeeded by twenty-nine other morrows, more or 
less, after which thralldom must recommence, even then 
she could not subdue the elasticity of her spirits. If we 
were all logical and reasonable in youth we might just as 
well be born old; in which case there would be a sad 
diminution of the sum of earthly happiness. To Hope at 
that moment all things seemed possible. Dick Herbert 
and his whimsical offer were left behind — a long way be- 
hind; her own misgivings were shaken off. Why should 
she not be a second Rosa Bonheurr Great female artists 
do arise every now and then, and, according to the law of 
averages, it was about time for one to make her appear- 


A bachelor's blunder. 


87 


ance. That oft-quoted and terribly misunderstood dictum 
about genius being the capacity for taking infinite pains 
recurred to her mind and encouraged her; she longed for 
the morning to come, that she might hasten to Tristram's 
house and set to work with all the power that she possessed. 
The patient Mills was hurried off at an earlier hour the 
next day than was quite compatible with the comfort of 
her first-floor lodgers; and Tristram, who had been in- 
formed by a note of his pupil's return, was waiting in his 
studio to receive her. “ I am quite well, thank you," he 
said, in answer to her inquiries; “ also I am extremely 
busy, and there is every appearance of our having a yellow 
fog this afternoon. We will each begin our daily task at 
once, if you don't mind, and we can talk afterward. " 

“I am quite ready," replied Hope, entering the little 
room which was reserved for her, and divesting herself of 
her hat and jacket. “ What shall I do?" 

“ Do?" Tristram hesitated for a moment, looking about 
him. He was fond of dogs, and always had two or three 
of them on the premises. “Here," he said suddenly, 
catching up a little Yorkshire terrier by the scruff of his 
neck and tossing him upon the sofa, “paint that. You 
must get it done at one sitting, mind. I don't want a 
picture, or a careful sketch; I want a study, more or less 
finished. I give you three hours — ample time, if you know 
how to set about it." And, with that, he left her. 

Hope had not had much experience in depicting animals, 
nor was she accustomed to work with rapidity; but she de- 
termined to do her very utmost to stand the test to which 
she was being subjected. She was very eager to earn a 
little praise that morning. If Tristram would only say a 
few encouraging words, it would be such a help to her, and 
would seem like a good omen. So she made friends with 
the little dog, and induced him to look at her, and placed 
him in various positions which he declined to maintain, and 
dashed with feverish haste into her study. It was a total 
failure, and a second and third attempt pleased her no bet- 
ter; but the fourth time something more like achievement 
rewarded her efforts. 

After the first difficulty had been overcome she took 
heart, and plied her brushes swiftly and silently, while 
Mills darned an old stocking, murmuring occasionally, 
“ Poor Toby! Poor little feller!" to the dog, whose name 


88 


A bachelor's blunder. 


was not Toby, and who glanced over his shoulder with in- 
effable contempt at the ridiculous old person who knew no 
better than to call him so. Luckily, he felt an interest in 
Hope's proceedings, and, when she spoke to him, would 
rouse himself from incipient slumber to gaze inquisitively 
at her, with his ears cocked and his head on one side. It 
was thus that she caught his likeness. His wise little face, 
his bright eyes looking out from beneath their shaggy pent- 
house, the curiosity that was expressed in his pointed ears, 
the many shades of his long silky coat, all these she man- 
aged to render with a good deal of skill and fidelity, and 
she was debating with herself whether she would let well 
alone, or add a few finishing touches, when, to her astonish- 
ment, Tristram came in to say that the alloted time was 
up. 

“ So that is my little tyke, is it?" he observed, examin- 
ing what she had done; and he stood looking at it in silence 
for what seemed to Hope an interminable time. 

“ Do you think I have improved?" she ventured to ask 
at last." 

“Yes," he answered slowly, “I think you have im- 
proved. You have more facility than I gave you credit for 
— more facility." 

This, coming from Tristram, was a good deal, and he 
added nothing more, but gazed abstractedly at the study, 
drawing his fingers through his beard. When he turned 
away and saw Hope's happy face, he smiled at her in an 
odd, rather sad sort of fashion. He looked as if he wel^e 
sorry for her, and she wondered why. 

“ You want to get on very much, don't your" he asked 
gently. 

“ Yes, very much!" she replied. 

“ Well, well!" muttered Tristram, and began to walk 
up and down the room. Presently he stopped and shook 
his broad shoulders, as if to free them from a weight. 
“ Come," said he cheerfully, “ you have done a good 
morning's work, and I have a little bit of good news for 
you as a reward. I have sold two of your pictures." 

“ Oh, have you?" exclaimed Hope, catching her breath. 

“Yes; and got a hundred guineas for the pair, too. 
What do you think of that?" 

A hundred guineas! Hope felt herself rich beyond the 


a bachelor's blunder. 89 

dreams of avarice. 4 4 Is it possible?" she cried. 44 Who 
could have bought them?" 

44 Well, a dealer bought them; but it was on commission, 
as I need hardly say. His instructions were to buy two of 
your pictures, and he wanted to know the price. I said a 
hundred guineas, at which he made an ugly face; but he 
admitted that he was authorized to expend that sum, and I 
assured him we couldn't take less." 

44 Mr. Tristram," said Hope, becoming grave, as a rather 
dispiriting thought crossed her mind, 44 upon your honor — 
was it you who bought those pictures?" 

44 Upon my honor," answered Tristram, 44 it was not. 
Upon my honor, I don't think them worth the money. 
And if you don't know who the purchaser is, I'm sure I do 
not." 

44 1 haven't an idea," said Hope musingly. 

She had an idea, but it was an absurd one, and she dis- 
missed it. Young officers in the Guards, with next to no 
income, do not throw away a hundred guineas upon the 
daubs of an amateur. Besides, why should Captain Cun- 
ningham care to possess any of her productions? She never 
would have supposed that it could be he, only that she was 
unable to think of any one else who knew that she was 
painting with a view-to ultimate profit. Nevertheless, this 
notion, for all its absurdity, came back to her more than 
once in the course of the afternoon and evening; and she 
only got rid of it at last by reminding herself that Cun- 
ninghamwas a man whom she could never like, and that, if 
he bought pictures at all, it was probably to present them 
to little Mrs. Pierpoint. 


CHAPTER XI. 

HOPE IS TOLD THE TRUTH. 

If Hope had felt any overpowering desire to learn the 
name of the man who had so rashly expended a hundred 
guineas upon two carefully executed but not very original 
works of art, she might easily have asked Tristram to give 
her the address of the picture-dealer, and applied to that 
intermediary for the desired information. This course did, 
indeed, suggest itself to her; but, upon second thoughts, 
she decided not to adopt it. People who insist upon know- 


90 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


ing too much often have reason to repent of their curiosity; 
and what, after all, did it signify? The important matter 
was that she had already managed to earn a round sum of 
money; that would be something to tell her uncle when he 
came up to London. In the meantime, she took advan- 
tage of her leisure to work unremittingly both in Tristram’s 
studio and at home. 

Tristram, after the first day, did not praise her much; 
but, on the other hand, she fancied that he watched her 
with greater interest and treated her aspirations more seri- 
ously than he had done in the autumn. His method with 
her had the appearance of being a little capricious. He 
seldom allowed her to finish anything that she had begun, 
but would push it aside, saying, “ There’s enough of that; 
try something else.” Sometimes he would make one of 
his models sit to her in an attitude which would have 
bothered Michael Angelo himself; sometimes he would 
order her to produce an effect of light and shade which 
even his own audacity might have hesitated to undertake. 
He never gave her anything easy to do, and never seemed 
to care much about her drawing being defective. By de- 
grees she began to understand what it was that lie was try- 
ing to discover; and though this made her tremble — for she 
could not help knowing that the originality which he sought 
was not in her — yet her courage rose even while she trem- 
bled, and whilO’ the immense difficulties of art grew more 
apparent to her. To recognize a difficulty is surely a step, 
though it be but a small one, toward overcoming it. 

The days flew by, and Hope’s holiday of hard labor 
seemed scarcely to have begun when it was over. It was, 
in fact, somewhat curtailed by the arrival of her relations 
in Eaton Square at a date rather earlier than that which 
they had fixed upon. Parliament met in the first days of 
February, and, as an important "amendment was moved to 
the Address, it was necessary that Mr. Lefroy should be in 
his place to swell the numerically feeble ranks of the Oppo- 
sition. His voice, likewise, was placed at the service of his 
party and the country for a few minutes, when he rose, 
with an amiable smile, to say that the wild inconsistencies 
of the right honorable gentleman at the head of the govern- 
ment had now, he should imagine, reached their culminat- 
ing point. Further, that he (Mr. Lefroy) happened to 
know as a fact that a very large section of the right honora- 


a bachelor's blunder. 


91 


ble gentleman's followers were aghast — simply aghast — at 
the condition of public affairs, and would certainly never 
give him another vote if they had the courage to obey their 
consciences. 

This declaration, which brought about — as it was proba- 
bly designed to do — a very pretty row at the time, was not 
productive of serious consequences; and, so far as any 
benefit to the Conservative cause was concerned, Mr. Lefroy 
might, perhaps, as well have remained quietly at Helston 
Abbey. But his return to London, if it failed to check the 
headlong career of the ministry, was quite effectual in dis- 
turbing that of his niece. Hope, after she had bidden a 
regretful farewell to Henrietta Street, and had reported 
herself, in accordance with instructions, in Eaton Square, 
soon perceived that her studies could only be continued in 
the face of persistent and almost insurmountable obstacles. 
Although she was nominally allowed to take her breakfast 
at any hour that suited her, she could not practically get it 
before ten o'clock, and immediately afterward her cousins 
were wont to claim her services, 

“You might be good-natured and come to the dress- 
maker’s with me," Alice would say. 44 You have all your 
life to paint pictures in, and I have only a few weeks in 
which to provide myself with a stock of decent apparel. " 

Lady Jane, too, showed an alarming tendency to assume 
that all the required concessions had now been made, and 
that it only remained to summon Mr. Herbert up from the 
country. When Hope assured her that she was laboring 
under a total misapprehension of the case, she only smiled 
indulgently and said, 4 4 Well, he must come uj3 for Alice's 
wedding, at any rate, and then you and he can talk matters 
over. But for your own sake, I hope you won't go on 
much longer like this. Everybody is talking about it. " 

44 Do you mean to say," exclaimed Hope, in dismay, 
44 that you have told anybody that we are engaged?" 

44 Certainly not. How could you think such a thing of 
me after my promise to you? Naturally people noticed 
that you were always together at Helston, and naturally I 
have been asked questions about it; but I have always re- 
plied that there was no engagement yet. " 

44 Yet!" Hope groaned and turned away. It was evi- 
dently useless to remonstrate with her aunt. 

On the third day after her change of quarters a number 


92 


a bachelor's blunder. 


of people came to dinner, amongst whom was a certain Mr. 
Francis. “ A great friend of Dick Herbert's," Lady Jane 
whispered to her; “ he is going to take you in to dinner, 
and I hope you will make yourself agreeable to him, be- 
cause he is by way of being extra fastidious." 

The inference that she was about to be submitted to Mr. 
Francis for approval was not calculated to prepossess Hope 
in favor of that gentleman, nor was she particularly taken 
with the look of him when he was introduced to her. He 
was a small, wiry, alert man, with bright brown eyes and 
dark hair and beard, in which last a white thread or two 
were distinguishable here and there. Hope fancied that 
he was mentally appraising her, and did not trouble her- 
self to respond to his advances with any cordiality. He 
was not, however, discouraged by her coldness, and after a 
time she became interested in him, in spite of herself. He 
talked very pleasantly; he seemed to know everybody, to 
have been everywhere, and to have tried his hand at all 
sorts of occupations and amusements. Before dinner was 
half over Hope had found out that he had been in Parlia- 
ment, but had accepted the Chiltern Hundreds, experience 
having forced him, he said, to abandon so many of the ad- 
vanced ideas with which he had started, that he had 
thought it best to retire from political life while he had still 
a few illusions left. He appeared to know a good deal 
about art; he had at onetime been war correspondent to 
one of the chief daily papers; he had accompanied a yacht- 
ing expedition to the polar regions, and there was no 
variety of sport with which he was not familiar. 

“ It was Dick Herbert who first introduced me to the big 
game," he remarked. “ You know him, I believe? And 
I hope you like him; because, if you don't, we won't talk 
about him." 

Hope would much have preferred not to talk about him; 
but honesty compelled her to admit that she liked him, and 
her neighbor went on: 

“ I shall never be such a shotas Herbert; but I'm re- 
spectable enough to be trusted on occasions when it wouldn't 
be altogether safe to miss; and he and I have had many a 
good month together in India and Abyssinia. Dick Her- 
bert is, without any exception, the best-tempered fellow 
that I know. I never saw him put out, and I never heard 
him grumble. " 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


93 


“ I am not sure that I admire that extreme good nat- 
ure/’ Hope was provoked into saying. “ Of course, if one 
does not care particularly about anything or anybody, one 
is not likely to be put out.” 

Mr. Francis looked annoyed. “ You don’t know much 
of Dick Herbert, evidently,” he remarked. 

As he was silent for several minutes after this, Hope flat- 
tered herself that she had caused him to drop the subject; 
but presently he took her terribly aback by turning round 
in his chair so as to face her, and saying, “ Miss Lefroy, I 
wish you would tell me something. Perhaps it is rather 
impertinent of me to ask, but am I right in suspecting that 
Herbert is going to be married?” 

“ I — I — don’t know,” answered Hope faintly. But she 
recovered herself in a minute and added, “ To the best of 
my belief he is not engaged to anybody.” 

“ Oh, I see — only going to be. Well, I’m sorry. I hope 
you will excuse my saying that I’m sorry. I don’t speak 
from a selfish point of view, for I should be glad to see 
Herbert married, though I suppose I may expect to lose a 
good friend when the event comes off; but there are very 
few women good enough for him, and still fewer who would 
be likely to suit him. I wonder whether it is too late to 
try and stop this. ” 

Hope hardly knew how to answer. As no direct refer- 
ence had been made to herself, she thought it best to as- 
sume that she was not alluded to, and said: 

‘ 4 Hot in the least too late, I should think. As I told 
you, I don’t believe Mr. Herbert is engaged at all.” 

“ Ah, but you think he will be before long, and so does 
Lady Jane; she gave me to understand as much. Besides, 
he wouldn’t have stayed all that time at your uncle’s with- 
out a reason. As a general thing he hates staying in other 
people’s houses, unless it is for a few days’ shooting. You 
are quite mistaken in supposing that Herbert doesn’t care 
about anything or anybody. He cares a good deal more 
than most people, and shows it a great deal less, that is all. 
He is the very last man in the world who ought to make 
such a marriage as I am pretty sure that this would be. 
His wife must be able to enter into his ways, otherwise she 
Will spoil his life, and very likely her own into the bargain 
— if that signifies. ” 

“ Possibly it might signify to her,” remarked Hope. 


94 a bachelor’s blunder. 

“ Do you mean that she should be able to shoot lions and 
tigers?” 

“ No/’ answered Mr. Francis, rather tartly, “ I don’t. 
I mean that she ought to be as unselfish and kind-hearted 
as he is; and, to speak plainly, I doubt whether the lady in 
question is remarkable for unselfishness.'” 

“ Are you sure that you know much about her?” in- 
quired Hope. 

“ I am not very well acquainted with her, certainly; but 
some people are easily classified. No doubt she wo aid turn 
out a very fair, average empty-headed member of society if 
she were mated with one of her own species; but most as- 
suredly she is not fit to black Dick Herbert’s boots. I 
ought to apologize for my plain language; but I hate to 
think of poor Herbert being so thrown away. ” 

“Pray don’t apologize, Mr. Francis,” said Hope, who 
was excusably indignant. “ I dare say it will do me good 
to have heard what is the impression that I produce upon a 
total stranger. But I think you are needlessly alarmed on 
your friend’s account. Both he and I are perfectly free, as 
it happens, and if you will only repeat some of the amiable 
things that you have been saying about me to him, no 
doubt he will give up all idea of throwing himself away 
upon me.” 

Hope was too angry to turn her eyes toward her neigh- 
bor. Had she done so, she would have been privileged to 
behold a man of the world, an ex-member of Parliament, 
and an intrepid hunter, looking as great a fool as it is pos- 
sible for any mortal to look. 

“ Good gracious!” he exclaimed, in accents of heartfelt 
distress; “ what a frightful mistake I have made! I never 
for a moment supposed that you were the lady; I thought, 
of course it was your cousin. It was Lady Jane who mis- 
led me; she was so oracular about it. I am afraid you will 
never forgive me. Miss Lefroy.” 

Hope could have forgiven him more easily if she could 
have pardoned herself. How could she have been so fool- 
ish as to let out the very thing that she was most anxious 
to conceal? How could she have supposed that Mr. Francis, 
or any other casual acquaintance, would tell her to her face 
that she was empty-headed and selfish? 

“ The best plan is to say no more about it,” she an- 
swered, not overgraciously. “ It is a great pity that Aunt 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


95 


Jane can not keep anything to herself. I am sorry you 
have such a bad opinion of poor Gertrude. But, perhaps, 
after all, you only meant that you did not wish your friend 
to marry anybody.” 

And then she turned away from him and began to talk 
to an old gentleman who was seated on the other side of 
her. 

Hope had no further conversation with Mr. Francis that 
evening; but his words remained in her mind and rankled 
there. If what he had said applied to Gertrude, it applied 
with quite equal force to herself; and after everybody had 
gone away she summoned up all her courage, drew her aunt 
into one of the empty rooms, and said, “ Aunt Jane, I want 
to tell you that I have quite made up my mind not to 
marry Mr. Herbert. ” 

Poor Lady Jane fairly lost patience. “ It appears to 
me, Hope,” she exclaimed, “ that there is only one thing 
about which you have made up your mind, and that is to 
cause as much distress as you can to everybody. I shall not 
interfere. When Dick Herbert comes you and he must 
settle it between you. But I must say that, for a girl who 
professes such extreme reluctance to be dependent upon jhet 
relations, you are singularly unwilling to take an excellent 
opportunity of relieving them from all responsibility for 
your vagaries.” 

And with that Lady Jane clutched her bedroom candle- 
stick, and marched majestically upstairs. 

The good lady — for she was really good and willed no 
harm to any living creature-— Was sorry afterward that she 
had spoken so sharply; but she did not think it necessary 
to retract her words, nor, perhaps, even if she had done so, 
would her niece have been able to forget them. 

Early the next day Hope escaped to Tristram's studio. 
The maid who had been told off to accompany her since 
her removal to Eaton Square could not be spared that 
morning, she was informed; so she broke through regula- 
tions for once, and, without saying a word to anybody, 
went off alone. But when she reached her destination she 
found that she could do nothing. Her trembling fingers 
refused to obey her, and presently she sunk down upon a 
chair, saying, “ It is no good; I am. too tired.” 

“ What is the matter with you?” asked Tristram, who 
had stationed himself beside her easel. 


96 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


Hope was very nearly bursting into tears outright. How- 
ever, she swallowed down the lump in her throat, and an- 
swered: “Nothing is the matter — at least, everything is 
the matter. Mr. Tristram, I can’t bear it any longer; I 
must be put out of my pain. I am sure you can tell me 
now. Is there any chance?” 

Tristram’s long bony fingers twisted themselves into his 
beard. He gazed at his questioner, and made no articulate 
reply; but every second of silence was a reply to her, fall- 
ing like lead upon her heart. 

“No,” he burst out roughly at last; “there is no 
chance. ” Then he spun round on his heels, walked away 
to the window, and remained there, looking out at the gray 
sky and the bare blackened trees. 

Probably there are few people who have not, at one time 
or another, received some such answer as this. "We have 
waited, perhaps, through long weeks, hoping against hope, 
for news of the missing ship; we have scanned the doctor’s 
face, it may be, day after day, not daring to put into words 
the question that has been trembling upon our lips. And 
then, all of a sudden, the blow falls. It is an odd sensa- 
tion, and is seldom what we expected it to be. The worst 
has happened that can happen. It is all over; the very 
suffering itself is over, only the memory of it remaining. 
Whether we know it or not, the recuperative forces of nat- 
ure set to work instantly to console us, and what people 
call despair is very often only another word for peace. The 
first thing that Hope was conscious of, after a minute of 
dizziness and bewilderment, was that she was very sorry for 
the good friend who had been forced to deal so cruelly with 
her. 

“ Never mind,” she said, “ you have done your best.” 

That great baby Tristram turned to her with his features 
distorted into a grotesque grimace and tears in his eyes. 
He began to speak loudly and hurriedly, his words jostling 
one another. “ I had to tell you — what could I say? You 
have not genius, and without genius you can not, in your 
position, take up Art as a trade. It was better that you 
should be told. I know — don’t trouble to explain — I un- 
derstand it all. You have had a dream, and it can’t come 
true. Heaven help us! we all have dreams, and all have 
to wake out of them, some in one way, some in another. 
What a world we live in ! and what helpless wretches we 


a bachelor's blunder. 


97 


are! All this because a man as rich as Croesus takes it into 
his head one day to buy a few shares in an infernal unlim- 
ited bank. If any one wants proof of the intervention of 
Providence, there it is for him. Don't tell me that these 
things happen by blind chance. Why they should ever 
happen at all — but what is the good of talking? Courage! 
courage! Don't let that devil of a thing that they call life 
beat you. Fight it out. Look at me; 1 have been through 
worse trouble than you have known or ever will know, I 
trust; and yet here I am, alive and well and happy — yes, 
happy, in spite of all. I have felt like cutting my throat 
more than once; there have been days when I thought I 
could not hold out any longer, and must knock under. 
Even when the worst was over, I had to contend against 
poverty and stupidity and the malevolence of those cursed 
critics — " He went on confusedly referring to the miseries 
of his past life, half forgetting his hearer's troubles in the 
remembrance of his own; but that he could not help, it was 
his nature to view the world and all events that took place 
therein subjectively. 

After a time he recollected himself, grew calmer, and 
sat down beside the girl, taking both her listless hands in 
his strong ones. “ Come now, Miss Hope," he said, “ we 
must not make a tragedy out of this. We don't know what 
your life might have been like if you had been able to make 
what you wished of it; it isn't certain that it would have 
been happy. I think a man who has creative power, and 
who feels in him the love of beauty, can not be miserable; 
but I don't know about women; their wants are not the 
same as ours. Just now, ’what you are thinking of is the 
irksomeness of having to live with people who don't suit 
you; but that will not last forever. Perhaps it may come 
to an end very soon." 

“ Yes, perhaps," assented Hope. Presently she added: 
<£ Mr. Tristram, will you advise me what to do? You have 
always been so kind, and I have no one else to consult, ex- 
cept" people who can't give an unprejudiced opinion." 
And, without further preface, she related to him the his- 
tory of Herbert’s offer and of her provisional acceptance 
of it. 

Tristram heard her out, making no comment, and when 
she had finished, said, “ I think I would rather not advise 
you." 


4 


98 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


. “ I am not bound to follow your advice/’ answered 
Hope, smiling faintly. 44 Let me at least know what you 
think. ” 

44 Well, then I will say to you what I should say to my 
own daughter, if I had one. I know something of Mr. Her- 
bert, and all that I know of him is in his favor. He is no 
longer a very young man; he has been rich and his own 
master from his boyhood, and he has never made a fool of 
himself in any way. From what you tell me, and from 
what I have heard from others, I should think that he 
would be a kind husband. There is no reason why you 
should not marry him, and every reason why you should, 
except one. My belief is that love — in the sense of what is 
Called being in love — is a curse rather than a blessing. At 
the best, it promotes selfishness, and at the worst, it brings 
about jealousies and broken hearts and all kinds of unhap- 
piness. Marriages are made without any regard to it in 
France, and I never could see that French couples were at 
all less attached to one another than English couples. In- 
deed, family ties are far stronger with them than with us. 
But I know perfectly well that all this doesn’t and can’t 
convince you. Nature has the same method with all young 
creatures, and an v old fellow’s experience has no chance 
against her. I am afraid I can not be of much service to 
you in this matter.” 

44 But it comes to this,” said Ho^e, after pondering for 
awhile, 44 that you do advise me to marry Mr. Herbert,” 

44 Yes, I won’t shirk the responsibility; it is what I should 
advise. But I may be quite wrong. My mind is .warped 
— I have suffered too much — ” 

He rose and took a turn or two up and down the room. 
44 One thing,” he said, 44 1 may tell you, for your comfort; 
though you have not genius, you have talent, and plenty 
of it. Painting will always be a resource and a consolation 
to you, whatever happens. Nothing can rob you of that.” 

But perhaps this seemed rather cold comfort to Hope, 
who made no rejoinder while she put on her hat and 
jacket. 

Tristram accompanied her to the outer door and held her 
hand for a minute, saying, 44 God bless you!” when she 
bade him good-bye. It was tacitly understood between 
them that she would return no more to the studio in which 
she had spent so many happy, sanguine hours. 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


99 


CHAPTER XII. 

LADY JANE IS MADE HAPPY. 

The wedding of Lord Middleborough, an event of some 
magnitude in its way, took place immediately after Easter. 
The ceremony, in accordance with a custom recently intro- 
duced, was performed in the afternoon, and was graced by 
the presence of as many dukes, duchesses, cabinet minis- 
ters, ex-cabinet ministers, foreign embassadors, and social 
celebrities as the eye of a fond mother could wish to rest 
■upon. So large was the throng of invited guests that, 
when these had’ been marshaled to their places, and the 
claims of the representatives of the press had been attended 
to, there was not much room left for the British public, 
which had assembled in great force, as it always does at 
such times, and which, for the most part, had to content 
itself with waiting outside in a bitter east wind and admir- 
ing the gay clothing of the ladies as they hurried across the 
strip of red carpet from their carriages tg, the church. 

The bride, a rather pretty little blue-eyed woman, was 
honored by a general murmur of approbation; the bride- 
maids also were pronounced worthy, both in person and in 
costume, of the occasion; but perhaps the most unequivocal 
success of the day was obtained by the tall pale girl dressed 
in French gray, who, if she had been listening, might have 
heard herself described by an appreciative butcher’s-boy as 
“ a real beauty ” — which expression of opinion was instant- 
ly confirmed by the bystanders. Nor was it only among 
the plebeian herd upon the pavement that the appearance 
of this lady caused a momentary sensation. The more 
critical assemblage within the building did not fail to re- 
mark her delicate, high-bred features, the graceful carriage 
of her head, and her large and rather sorrowful gray eyes. 
The majority, not knowing who she was, whispered in- 
quiries about her, and those who did know replied: “ Oh, 
that is Miss Lefroy, the daughter of the late man. Lost a 
huge fortune in the Central England Bank smash,” which 
generally elicited a murmur of “ Poor thing, no wonder 
she looks so sad!” 


a bachelor's blunder. 


100 

A few well-informed persons mentioned a rumor that she 
was about to be married to 44 that queer fellow Dick Her- 
bert/' and this greatly increased the curiosity with which 
she was regarded; for women of all ranks, ages, and dis- 
positions, are interested in a marriage, and especial interest 
would attach to that of Dick Herbert, not so much because 
he was a 44 queer fellow," as because he was so rich, and 
had been for such a number of years an ostensible bachelor, 
that nine people out of ten believed him to have a wife 
somewhere who was not presentable. 

Hope was entirely unconscious of being noticed or discussed, 
and even if she had heard what was being said about her, she 
would not have cared much. The days when the coupling 
of her name with Herbert's would have brought a flush of 
anger into her cheeks were past and gone; it was very 
likely— more likely than not, now — that her name would 
be permanently coupled with his. No further direct press- 
ure had been brought to bear upon her either by her uncle 
or by Lady Jane; but in a hundred little ways the convic- 
tion had been brought home to her that, if she threw away 
this chance, the reproaches heaped upon her would be 
greater than she would be able to bear. Since Tristram 
had swept away h^r dream of life into space she had grown 
apathetic about the future, which seemed to hold no golden 
promises for her. She had not definitely decided what she 
would do; but she knew very well that Herbert would say 
something to her that day, and she was disposed to abide 
by his judgment, whatever it might be. She could see him 
on the opposite side of the church, towering a head above 
his neighbors; she watched him while the choir sung 4 4 The 
voice that breathed o'er Eden," arid while the bishop, 
assisted by his satellites, proceeded with the form of words 
which was to convert Alice Lefroy into a viscountess. 
Once their eyes met, and he smiled. He had . a kindly, 
pleasant, honest sort of face. 44 1 don't think he will beat 
me, at all events," Hope said to herself, with something 
between an incipient laugh and a sob in her throat. 

Well, it would soon be over now; she would soon. know 
her fate; and it would be something to have done with in- 
decision. Time, plodding on with even steps, brought her 
nearer and nearer to the moment which she half dreaded 
and half wished for. The ceremony was concluded; the 
crowd — not quite so large a one as had been present at the 


A bachelor's blunder. 


101 


church — repaired to Eaton Square to inspect the wedding 
presents, and gradually melted away. The bride and 
bridegroom, being possessed of three large houses of their 
own, drove off to spend the honeymoon in one belonging 
to a relative, which had been lent them for that purpose. 
Hope was standing alone in a small morning-room looking 
out of the window and waiting for the sound of an ap- 
proaching footstep which she expected every instant to 
hear. 

She had already shaken hands with Herbert, but only a 
few words had passed between them, and it was hardly to 
be supposed that he would go away without a longer inter- 
view. He did not, however, seem inclined to hurry him- 
self, and Hope was rather angry with him for keeping her 
waiting. She could hear voices and laughter down-stairs, 
where, no doubt, he was engaged in conversation with the 
rest of the family, and she could fancy it all — Mr. Lefroy 
rubbing his hands and saying, 44 Thank goodness that is 
over!" — Gertrude reporting some acrimonious speech of 
Lady Chatterton's; Lady Jane smiling contentedly, and 
exclaiming, all of a sudden, 44 Hear me, where can Hope 
be: I wish you would go and see what has become of her. 
Hick " — and then a slow, deliberate step mounting the 
stairs. Oh, why didn't they make haste and get it all 
ended !" 

In reality, her suspense was not prolonged for more than 
five minutes or so. She heard the door opened and shut; 
some one entered the room and advanced until he was close 
to her elbow, and then, just for a second, a wild notion, 
took possession of her. Suppose it should not be he: 
Suppose it should be — somebody else: 

But of course it was he; and it was his voice that was 
saying cheerfully, 44 Well, you didn't write to me, after all. " 

44 1 had nothing to write about," answered Hope, still 
looking out of the window. Her hands were cold and 
damp, a sudden access of nervousness had come upon her, 
and she did not venture to look at him. 

But he showed no consciousness of her distress. 4k I 
thought," he said, 44 that perhaps you would let me know 
how you were getting on. Is Mr. Tristram encouraging:" 

Hope turned round and dropped into the nearest chair. 
44 No," she answered; 44 1 have not got on at all; I never 
shall get on now. Haven't you heard: Didn't they tell 


102 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


you:” Then, recollecting herself, ££ But of course they 
could not. I did not mention it to them, and no one has 
ever asked me about it. I suppose they knew all along 
that I should fail. ” 

She glanced at him to see w r hether he showed any sign of 
surprise, or pleasure, or regret; but his face expressed 
nothing at all. 

££ Isn’t it rather too soon to despair?” was his only 
comment. 

“ Mr. Tristram says not. He told me that I had no 
chance whatever. ” 

“ What a brute!” 

4 £ He is the best friend that I have in the world. I asked 
him to tell me the truth, and I was very glad that he told 
it me without phrases. ” 

“ And what are you going to do now?” Herbert asked, 
after a pause. 

“ I don’t know,” answered Hope. 

Presently she glanced up at him again, and saw that he 
was sorry for her. He certainly looked very kind; but it 
is never quite pleasant to be pitied. ££ Since I can’t have 
what I want, I must do without it, that is all,” she re- 
marked, rather brusquely. 

There was nothing to be urged against so self-evident a 
proposition; but Herbert was able to put forward another, 
equally indisputable. “ When one has'got what one wants, 
one doesn’t always like it,” he observed. And, obtaining 
no response, he went on: “ Now, about the alternative 
suggestion that I made to you— have you thought any more 
of it?” 

“Of course I have thought of it^” Hope answered, 
slowly. 

££ And you don’t much fancy it?” 

“I hardly know what to say. I can’t feel about mar- 
riage as you and everybody else seem to feel. Mr. Herbert, 
do you think we ought to marry, not caring in the least for 
one another?” 

££ The case is not quite so bad as that, is it? Our under- 
standing was that it wouldn’t be a love match. Surely 
that doesn’t exclude affection.” . . 

That passing sensation of wonder and resentment which 
Hope had felt once before swept over her again as she 
raised her eyes to his frank, good-tempered face. She did 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


103 


not wish him to be in love with her; but at the same time 
it was a little strange and a little unflattering that he 
should be so entirely free from any idea of such a thing. 
“ It does not exclude affection, of course,” she agreed; 
44 only sometimes I am afraid — but perhaps I may be mis- 
taken. If you are content to have it so, I am. ” 

4 4 That’s all right; then we’ll consider it settled,” said 
he, with a cheerful air of relief. 44 It won’t he my fault if 
you ever repent of your bargain. I shall remember my 
promise; you will have your own way and live your own 
life, and whenever you find me a bore you will only have to 
say so, and I’ll take myself off. I’m always ready to book 
my passage for the other side of the world at a moment’s 
notice. JDo you like yachting?” 

Hope shook her head. 44 1 hate the sea. ” 

44 Well, I love it; so that you can count upon being rid 
of me for a good part of the summer, at all events. ” 

44 And Mr. Francis will keep you company, I suppose,” 
said Hope, laughing a little, though she did not feel very 
merry. 44 Do you know that 1 met your friend Mr. Francis 
a short time ago? He gave me quite a new view of your 
character. ” 

44 Oh, he did, did he?” 

44 Yes; he had heard a report that you were going to be 
married, and he was very much annoyed and rather rude 
about it. He said you were the last man in the world who 
ought to make a marriage of convenience, that nobody was 
good enough for you, and that unless your wife could share 
your tastes — does that mean taking long cruises without 
being sea-sick? — she would spoil your life.” 

44 Francis is an ass,” remarked Herbert, placidly. 

44 He did not strike me as being that. ” 

44 He is though — a clever ass; there are lots of them 
about. I am a stupid ass if you like; but I do know what 
I want.” 

44 Why should you want this?” exclaimed Hope. 44 1 
can not understand why you should want it!” 

44 1 thought I had told you down at Helston. But, never 
mind, I am not afraid of the result. ” 

Hope, however, was a good deal afraid. She got up and 
moved restlessly about the room. All her life long, until 
recently, she had been accustomed to be loved; she was not 
sure of herself, and did not know what she might become 


104 


A ‘bachelor’s blunder. 


if in future she was only to be tolerated. Perhaps it was 
not very dignified; but an impulse which she could not re- 
sist prompted her to pause suddenly beside the man who — 
whether he admitted it or not — must control her destiny. 

You will be good to me, won’t you?” she murmured, 
appealingly. 

What could any one say or do in answer to such a ques- 
tion? Herbert rose and took possession of her hands. 
“ My dear,” he said, kindly, ‘you may trust me for 
that. ” And then he bent down and kissed her forehead. 

If he thought such an action natural and permissible 
under the circumstances, it was because he really knew 
very little of the queer nature of women.- Hope started 
away from him, flushing painfully. 

“ You must not do that!” she cried, with tears in her 
voice. “ There must be nothing — nothing of that kind. 
I thought at least we were to have no pretense!” 

Herbert looked considerably crestfallen, and a tinge of 
color found its way also into his sunburned cheek. 44 I beg 
your pardon,” he said, humbly; 44 I will not offend you in 
that way again. I fancied — •” 

44 You fancied that it was the proper thing to do,” she 
interrupted, 44 but it is not; and your having fancied so 
only shows — Oh, I don’t think I can marry you! I don’t 
think I can!” she concluded, sinking down into her chair 
again. 

Yet, even while she said this she felt that she had gone 
too far now to recede, and he had not much difficulty in 
making his peace with her. Only she was very urgent 
upon the point of there being no 4 4 make-believe ” between 
them, and as to this he declared himself to be quite of one 
mind with her. 

44 You know, I always told you that, in my opinion, the 
one important thing is to start fair,” he said. .If we are 
on iy honest with one another, we are sure to get on all 
right. I want you, if you will, to tell me everything, with- 
out bothering yourself to consider whether it will hurt my 
feelings or not. I always like to hear the truth, pleasant 
or unpleasant.” 

44 1 think I may promise that,” Hope answered, medita- 
tively. 44 1 have told you nothing but the truth, so far; 
you know all that there is to know about me. And I will 
try not to spoil your life,” she added, with a slight smile. 


105 


A bachelor's blunder. 

“ No fear of that. We thoroughly understand one an- 
other now. We are not lovers; we are two friends who are 
going to set up house together, isn't that it?" 

“ Yes, that is it," replied Hope. 

And, having committed themselves to the above absurd 
and utterly impracticable scheme of existence, these two 
fools went down-stairs to make it known, being well aware 
that only the warmest congratulations awaited the an- 
nouncement of their folly. Nothing, indeed, could have 
been more genuine or more heartily expressed than the 
contentment of Mr. Lefroy and Lady Jane. The cloud 
which had arisen of late between them and their niece was 
at once and forever dispelled; Herbert, who had to catch a 
train, soon went away; and hardly had the door closed be- 
hind him before Lady Jane began to contemplate arrange- 
ments for a second matrimonial function. 

“ It can hardly take place before the end of the season," 
she said. “ There will be the trousseau to be provided, 
and I should think most likely he will want to refurnish 
Farndon. I haven't seen the place for a long time, but 
when I was there last it looked as if it wanted a great deal 
doing to it. I wonder whether his sister will go on living 
there. I suppose she must; and yet I am not sure that she 
will, for she is an independent sort of girl, and she has money 
of her own. No doubt she will marry before long. Some- 
body said something about that Cunningham boy having 
paid her a good deal of attention. It would be a good 
match for him, but I don't know — " 

“ Oh, Aunt Jane," interrupted Hope, “ do let us try to 
talk about anything in the world for the next few months 
except marrying and giving in marriage!" 

But that was the last faint symptom of revolt that es- 
caped her. As the days went on she became reconciled to 
her lot, and saw that it might have been a worse one. 
Happiness, she kept on saying to herself, is not everything; 
and, besides, there are many kinds of happiness. . One 
kind, certainly, might be derived from having satis* 5 
everybody. When one has fought and has beeu be r 
is a consolation to be kindly and generously tre^ 
conquerors; and on this score Hope had 
plaint. She might, had she been 
Tristram's studio every dav 


106 


a bachelor's blunder. 


uncle troubled himself more than once to gratify her love 
of art by taking her to one of the picture galleries; her 
aunt never pressed her to do anything that she did not like, 
nor quarreled with her for declining to go out into the 
world. These may not have been very important conces- 
sions, but, such as they were, she was graceful for them. 
She recognized the fact that she had reached the end of a 
chapter in her life, and appreciated the consideration which 
allowed her to pause before opening a fresh one. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

JACOB STILES. 

It can hardly be expected that the reader will recollect a 
passing allusion once made by Mr. Herbert to a certain 
young protege of his named Jacob Stiles. The fact is that 
Mr. Herbert was not very fond of alluding to this youth, 
whose benefactor he had been, having reasons for keeping 
silence about him besides those which modesty must always 
impose upon the truly charitable. 

Jacob Stiles, as his name (which was a source of deep 
grief to him) almost seemed to imply, was an object of 
charity, and since his early childhood had never been any- 
thing else. It had come to pass that as Dick Herbert was 
riding homeward one autumn evening shortly after he had 
attained his majority — and consequently some fifteen years 
before the date of the present narrative — his path was 
abruptly stopped* by a diminutive urchin who piped out: 

4 4 Oh, if you please, sir, father said I was to arst you what's 
won the Leger!'' Dick, then, as always, a man of few 
words, gave the desired information, glanced curiously at 
his ragged, black-eyed little questioner, and rode on. The 
incident might have escaped his memory had not the result 
of that particular St. Leger brought about a tragic occur- 
rence of which he, in common with the rest of the neigh- 
"hood, was speedily informed. This was the suicide * of 
des, a stranger in those parts, who had recently been 
’ rough-rider into the employment of a local 
who was found hanging in his master's 
° after the race, with the following 
of his coat— “ It's the Lege^ 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


107 


kind friend please to save my poor little lad from the 
work us?” 

This appeal found its way to the somewhat soft heart of 
Dick Herbert. He sought out the boy, found him in one 
of the cottages in the village, recognized him as the same 
whom he had encountered on the previous evening, carried 
him off to Farndon Court to be washed, fed and comforted, 
and retained him there with a view to discovering, as he 
said, 44 what could be made of him . 99 A great many things 
might have been made of him, for he proved to be one of 
the sharpest boys that was ever known; but perhaps a ju- 
dicious person, remembering the proverb about silk purses 
and sows’ ears, would have reflected that there were certain 
things into which he could not possibly be turned. Dick 
Herbert was only twenty-one at that time, and was not 
quite as judicious as he subsequently became. He was de- 
lighted with the little fellow’s shrewd replies to his ques- 
tions; he was still more delighted to see with what tenacity 
that atom could stick to a horse; and when he discovered 
that Jacob, in addition to his other talents, could draw 
with a precision and spirit amazing in one of such tender 
years, he concluded that, if ever there was a case in which 
a thorough education would be a boon worth bestowing, it 
was here. 

This was all very well, but to remove the boy entirely 
out of the station to which he had been born was another 
affair. To do Dick justice, he had at first no intention of 
falling into any such error. He proposed to have his pro- 
tege educated, and then to give him a start in whatever 
trade he might seem to be best fitted for. But there were 
difficulties in the way of carrying out this sensible pro- 
gramme. Jacob learned w * ' 1 



thing that he undertook 


manifested a decided dislike to associating with the serv- 
ants, who, on their side, cordially reciprocated his senti- 
ments. Thus it came about that, when he was at Farndon 
for the holidays, he spent most of his time in the company 
of his patron (who preferred not to be called his master), 
and was made a great deal of by his patron’s bachelor 
friends. 

Farndon Court was then a house in which only bachelors 
and married men on leave of absence were to be met; for 
old Mrs. Herbert, who was still alive, dwelt at a watering- 


108 


a bachelor's blunder. 


place in the West of England, the climate of Berkshire not 
agreeing with her health. One may conjecture that had 
any lady presided over Dick's household that clever young 
outcast, Jacob Stiles, would not have been permitted to dine 
with his betters, and adjourn to the billaird-room or the 
smoking-room with them later in the evening. But if the 
lad got any harm from such associations it was not apparent 
upon the surface. His school-masters gave glowing reports 
of him; his career was decided upon; he was in due time to 
become an artist, and there was every ground for believing 
that he would also become a successful one. Whence he 
derived his pictorial skill was a mystery of which his de- 
fective pedigree could afford no solution; but a very simple 
application of the law of inheritance sufficed to account for 
his great love and knowledge of horses; and it must be 
owned that this endeared him to Dick more than all his 
other gifts put together. Mr. Herbert can hardly be said 
to have been at any time upon the turf; but he usually had 
one or two animals in training, and he kept a few brood- 
mares with a view to raising thoroughbred stock. How 
Jacob's eye for a horse was nothing short of marvelous. Hot 
only was his opinion invaluable as regarded the purchase of 
yearlings, but he could tell, almost at a glance, whether a 
foal would ever come to any tiling or not. 

“ Confound the boy! He can't make a mistake!" Dick 
would exclaim, admiringly. 

He himself, however, was quite capable of making mis- 
takes, and he made a very serious one when he fell into the 
habit of taking this admirable judge with him to the prin- 
ipipal race-meetings. It was an innocent pleasure, Dick 
“hought; and in his case it certainly was so. He did net 
bet, and was careful to warn his young companion solemn- 
ly against that fatal practice, notwithstanding this ad- 
monition, Jacob did bet — possibly that, too, was a damnosa 
Jmreditas which it was hard for him to resist — and the 
worst of it was that he had to bet on the sly. Unluckily 
for him, his ventures were not only successful but were 
never found out; this form of gambling became a passion 
with him, and Mr. Herbert's prolonged absences from home 
afforded him opportunities of indulging in it by which he 
was not slow to profit. His conscience did not fail to re- 
proach him for so doing; but self-reproach l b seldom of 
much value as a curb. 


A bachelor's blunder. 


109 


When J acob was nineteen years of age, Nemesis, in the 
shape of a disastrous Ascot week, overtook him, in com- 
pany with many others of higher social position. His 
money was all spent; settling-day was near, and he was at 
his wit's end. One morning he saw Dick Herbert's check- 
book lying upon the library- table; he hastily tore a scrap 
of paper out of it, and scribbled thereon an imitation of 
that imprudent gentleman's signature, which would have 
been more exact if his fingers had not trembled so much. 
How could he have supposed that so foolish a fraud would 
escape detection? He may have counted upon Dick's well- 
known carelessness in money-matters; but it is more likely 
that he yielded to temptation in one of those moments of 
terror and bewilderment which are taken into consideration 
by merciful jurymen when they return a verdict of “ sui- 
cide while in an unsound state of mind. " He took the 
check into Windsor, had it cashed by a clerk, and the very 
next day Mr. Herbert received a note from the manager of 
the bank, requesting him to call at his earliest convenience. 

When Dick, in obedience to this summons,. entered the 
manager's private room, that functionary, with a very 
grave face, regretted to inform him that a check for £200 
— an obvious forgery, purporting to bear his signature — had 
been presented across the counter and inadvertently honored 
.by one of the clerks. 4 4 And I am very sorry to add, Mr. 
Herbert, that the money was paid to the young man Stiles. " 

44 Oh, indeed!" said Dick. “ Let's have a look at it." 
And after examining the paper — 44 So that's what you call 
a forgery?" 

44 Surely, Mr. Herbert, you must see that it is." 

44 Oh, no," answered Dick; 44 don't see it at all. Why 
should it be a forgery? 4 B. N. Herbert ' — that's the way 
I always sign, isn't it?" 

44 Mr. Herbert, do I understand you to recognize this as 
your signature?" inquired the manager solemnly. 

Dick nodded; and then the manager stared at him, and 
he stared at the manager; and the latter said no more, but 
thought a good deal. 44 Would it not be well, Mr. Herbert, 
that in future we should supply you with checks made pay- 
able to Order and not to Bearer?" was his only remark, as 
his visitor rose. 

Dick answered, 44 Yes, if you like," picked up the check 
and rode home. 


110 


A bachelor's blunder. 


As he was dismounting from liis- horse he caught sight 
of Jacob, hailed him, led him into the library, and produc- 
ing that terrible slip of blue paper, held it up before his 
eyes. “ Your writing, I presume?" he remarked, lacon- 
ically. 

The unfortunate criminal could not get out a word of 
reply. His knees trembled under him, he turned pale, and 
a cold sweat broke out upon his forehead. Herbert had his 
hunting-crop in his hand. 

“Jake," he said, quietly, “I'm going to give you a 
thrashing. 93 And without more ado he caught the young 
man by the collar, and administered the punishment al- 
luded to with the utmost vigor of a powerful right arm. 

Jacob never uttered a word or a groan. It was no nom- 
inal thrashing that was inflicted upon him; but perhaps he 
did not care about the pain. When it was over, he had 
just strength enough left to crawl a’syay to his room and 
hide himself. He richly deserved all that he had got, and 
was let off, upon the whole, very cheaply. One must not 
venture to claim sympathy for a man who rewards innum- 
erable kindnesses by forging his benefactor's name. We 
are all sinners and frankly admit as much once a week, if 
not of tener; we do things that we ought not to do, and 
leave undone v^hat we ought to do; but as for lying, thiev- 
ing, and cheating — allons done ! such mean offenses are. 
far beneath us, and we have every right to despise those 
who commit them. Perhaps so; but this poor wretch was 
base-born, and may not have possessed our noble instincts. 
Possibly even for him some allowance may be made by gen- 
erous minds. 

Dick Herbert had a very generous mind; but there never 
lived a man to whom it was less possible to make allowance 
for certain sins. It may be that he held too exalted views 
of the virtue of his fellow-creatures; at any rate, he trusted 
them implicitly until they deceived him; after which, no 
earthly power could induce him to trust them a second 
time. He had done his duty to Jacob in administering to 
him a lesson not likely to be forgotten. When the offender 
came and threw himself at his feet, in an agony of shame 
and remorse, he freely forgave him, saying: “We will 
never mention the subject again," and he never did men- 
tion it again. But it was no longer in his power either to 
esteem or to like the young fellow, nor was it in his power 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


Ill 


to hide the contempt that he felt for him. His kindness 
did not cease, but his friendliness did; and Jacob, who was 
as sensitive as he was sharp, felt and appreciated the dis- 
tinction. 

Whether the above catastrophe was the making or the 
marring of Jacob’s career must remain an open question, 
since no one can pronounce judgment upon what might 
have' been. It cured him at once and forever of betting; 
he made a vow, and kept it, that the ring should know him 
no more; but it may be said to have spoiled his temper, 
which, perhaps, was not naturally a sweet one. His life, 
even when he was among his fellow art-students, in Lon- 
don, was somewhat solitary: when he was at Farndon it 
was completely so. He had his own rooms, and, as he 
showed that he preferred to shut himself up, he was not 
often asked to leave them. It is difficult for a man who 
has been soundly horsewhipped to conceal all traces of the 
fact; and the servants, who had never had any love for Ja- 
cob, guessed what had happened to him. If they did not 
find out the exact truth, they arrived at something not very 
far removed from it; and gave themselves the satisfaction 
of sneering at him in a way which he could not resent. By 
one hasty, dishonorable act, he had incurred permanent 
obloquy, and he knew it. For years the dominant idea in 
his mind was a sense of the cruel harshness of fate, and 
of the injustice which took no account of repentance. Then 
Miss Herbert came to live at Farndon, and it was not his 
good fortune to commend himself favorably to Miss Her- 
bert, who alleged, with perfect truth, that the young man 
had been placed in an absurdly false position by her brother. 

False or not, there was no remedy for it now. He must 
remain where he was, until his brush should bring him in a 
sufficient income to enable him to set up his household gods 
elsewhere; and even when that wished-for day came he 
would not be free — he never could be free — from the weight 
of an immense obligation. In the meantime, his conduct 
continued to be exemplary, and his talent was recognized 
by all competent judges. Ambition of a kind he had, but 
it was not a hopeful kind of ambition. He developed into 
a rather sullen and taciturn young man — not a pleasant 
young man — possibly even a dangerous one, it might be 
fancied, by the look of him. Yet his thoughts were seldom 
bad thoughts, only intensely bitter. His feelings toward 


112 


A bachelor's blunder. 


Herbert would be difficult to define, and he certainly never 
attempted to define it to himself. He admired the man, he 
respected him; he would have loved him if things had fallen 
out differently. As it was, there were certain moments 
when he felt as if earth could afford him no greater joy 
than to detect his benefactor in the commission of some ig- 
noble action. It will be perceived that poor Jacob had 
great natural disadvantages to contend against. 

The little station of Farndon Eoad is only about a mile 
and a half from Farndon Court, and as Dick had not been 
sure how soon he would be able to get away from Lord 
Middleborough's wedding, he had given no orders that he 
should be met. When he left the train, however, he found 
Jaeob Stiles waiting for him in a dog-cart, and was a little 
surprised by a mark of attention which had been frequent 
enough in the old days, but which he had latterly ceased to 
look for. 

44 Hallo, Jake!" he said, 44 what brings you down here?" 

44 1 had to go into Windsor about something," replied 
the other, 44 and I thought I might as well drive round to 
the station, in case you came down by this train." 

44 1 intended to walk," said Dick; 44 but since you are 
here, I don't mind taking a lift. Ho; you drive," he 
added, as he climbed into the dog -cart, and his companion 
handed him the reins; 44 I'm going to smoke a cigarette." 

Jacob did as he was requested, and drove on some little 
distance, before saying: 44 1 wanted to tell you that I have 
sold another picture. " He spoke with his eyes lowered, 
which was a trick that he had. 

44 Have you?" said Dick. 44 Glad to hear it. I hope 
you got a good price." 

44 Yes," answered the other, 44 1 think so. I think I got 
as much as it was worth. " 

He had a slow, somewhat deprecating method of enunci- 
ation which, taken in conjunction with his thin, pale cheeks, 
and his habit of holding his head low, caused strangers to 
think that he must either be very unhappy, or be weighed 
down by some guilty secret — an impression which, as we 
know, was tolerably correct. But for these peculiarities he 
would have passed muster easily enough, having a face 
which was handsome rather than plain, and a well-knit, 
well-proportioned figure. 

44 The gentleman who bought that picture has given me 


a bachelor's blunder. 113 

an order for two more/' he went on, 44 and I am to do 
some illustrations for the 4 Grosvenor Magazine. ' " 

44 Come, that'd capital news. Did you drive round to 
tell me about it, Jake?" 

The young fellow raised his eyes — they were very dark 
and very brilliant eyes — for the first time, and shot a quick, 
sidelong glance at his questioner. 4 4 1 thought you would 
be glad to hear, " he answered. He seemed as if he were 
going to say something more, but apparently changed his 
mind, and, drawing the whip gently across the horse's 
flanks, slightly increased the pace at which they were mov- 
ing. 

4 4 By the way," observed Dick, presently, 44 1 have got a 
piece of news too. I'm going to be married." 

This time Jacob's eyes were opened to their utmost ex- 
tent, and were turned full upon Dick's face, which re- 
mained impassive. 44 To be married? You!" he ex- 
claimed. 44 Do you really mean it?" 

44 Oh, yes; I have been thinking about it for some time 
past. It is a Miss Lefroy: not a sister of Lady Middlebor- 
ough's — her cousin. You and she ought to become friends, 
I should think; for she takes a great interest in art, and 
paints like a professional." 

Jacob smiled very slightly; he may have been thinking 
that neither the future Mrs. Herbert nor any other lady 
was at all likely to make friends with him. From dwelling 
so continually upon one thought, he had come to have a 
morbid conviction that he looked like a forger, and that 
everybody must suspect him of being one. Presently he 
said in a formal, hesitating way, as if he were repeating a 
speech previously learned by heart : 4 4 1 am very glad that 
you are going to be married at last. I hope you will be as 
happy as you deserve to be." 

44 Thanks," answered Dick, briefly. After a minute or 
two he asked: 44 Did you happen to take a look at the 
Electricity foal to-day?" 

44 Yes. I don't much fancy him myself; but Miss Her- 
bert thinks he will be the best one we ever bred. She ar- 
rived just before luncheon. I suppose you knew that she 
was coming?" 

44 No, by George! I didn't," replied Dick, looking a trifle 
perturbed. 44 The last time I heard from her she said she 
wouldn't be here for another fortnight. I rather suspect. 


114 


a bachelor's blunder. 


you know," he went on musingly, 44 that Carry won't al- 
together like this. In fact, I'm sure she won't like it. If 
you come to that, it would be ridiculous to expect her to 
like it. ' ' 

These remarks partook so much of the nature of a solil- 
oquy that Jacob did not feel called upon to make any re- 
sponse to them, and nothing more was said until they 
reached the hall-door, where Miss Herbert, who had been 
out riding, happened at that moment to be dismounting 
from her horse. 

She was a tall, dark, well-made woman, who looked 
both young and handsome in her riding-habit, but who, 
under other circumstances, was quite evidently thirty years 
of age. She resembled her brother in nothing at all, ex- 
'cept in a certain abruptness of speech, and was far less 
universally popular than he. Nevertheless, she had a very 
large acquaintance, and was said to have refused many eli- 
gible suitors. She had a considerable fortune of her own. 

4 4 Well, Carry," said Dick, as he descended from the 
dog-cart, 44 so here you are again. Where are you from 
last?" 

He did not pay much attention to her reply, but walked 
up the steps beside her, and, with his usual promptitude in 
coming to the point, said: 44 1 have something to tell you. 
I am going to be married in the course of the summer, to 
Hope Lefroy, the niece of the Helston Abbey man." 

44 As I have -never set eyes on the girl," observed Miss 
Herbert, without any manifestation of surprise, 44 1 can't 
tell whether to congratulate you or not." 

44 You may congratulate me. And I say. Carry, I should 
like you two to be friends, if you could manage it. " 

4 ‘ I doubt whether we shall be able to manage it. Do 
you recollect ever to have come across a case of sisters-in- 
law living in the same house who were friends? I don't." 

44 Well, let us try to make yours an exceptional case. " 

They had entered the drawing-room by this time. Miss 
Herbert had seated herself in an arm-chair and had laid 
her gloves and whip down on the tea-table at her elbow. 
Dick leaned with his shoulders against the mantel-piece 
and his hands in his pockets. 

44 You are bound to see a good deal of one another," he 
continued, 44 and you know, Cany, you are an infernally 


A bachelor's BLUNDER. 115 

disagreeable woman sometimes. You don't mind my say- 
ing so, do you?" 

4 4 1 am sure you would not be deterred from saying so 
by such a trifle as my objecting to be called infernally dis- 
agreeable. " 

44 Ah, but you can be infernally agreeable too, if you 
like. I wish you would take it into your head to be agree- 
able to her. " 

44 My dear Dick, I hope I am not so silly or so ill-bred as 
to quarrel with your wife; but if you expect to see us trip- 
ping out of the dining-room after dinner with our arms 
twined round each other's waists, you had better prepare 
yotfrself for a disappointment. Demonstrations of that 
kind must be undertaken by you. " 

Dick laughed. 44 There won't be any demonstrations of 
that kind; don't be alarmed. We shall be a very sensible 
matter-of-fact couple, and we have no intention of going in 
for love-making. Besides, I dare say I shall be away from 
home pretty often." 

44 Oh, you have already arranged that? If it is not an 
impertinent question, may I ask why you are marrying a 
girl with whom you are not in love? I can understand 
that she may have her reasons for marrying you." 

44 We both have our reasons, and very good ones, too. 
I needn't run through the list of them. I really think you 
will like Hope; but I won't say any more. If I praise her 
too much I shall probably set you against her." 

44 Naturally," observed Miss Herbert, and then changed 
the subject. 

Jacob no longer dined with the family; his meals were 
served to him by reluctant servants in his own sitting-room 
upstairs — another painful incident of his false position. 
Sometimes, however, if there was nobody staying in the 
house, he would make his appearance in the smoking-room 
at a late hour, and he did so this evening. 

Dick looked up from the 44 Field " and nodded to him as 
he entered and advanced toward the fire, his cheeks some- 
what pale and the embarrassment of his manner more 
marked than usual. It was only after he had twice opened 
his lips without speaking that he managed to say: 

44 I told you 1 had sold another picture. 1 have been 
saving up what I have earned lately, and here it is. " He 
held out a bundle of bank-notes. 44 It's — it's — the two 


116 


A bachelor's blunder. 


hundred pounds that I stole, ” he said, a sudden flush 
mounting to his cheek bones as he forced himself to utter* 
that uncompromising word. 

Dick frowned, as he had a way of doing when he was 
distressed. “What nonsense, Jake!” he exclaimed. “I 
thought we had agreed not to mention that affair again. 
It is all over and— done with. ” He had been going to say 
“ forgotten,” but checked himself. 

“ It can never be done with for me,” answered the young 
man, upon whom the significance of the substituted phrase 
was not lost. “ The curse will be upon me till my dying 
day. If I never commit another offense against God or man 
it will make no difference. It can't be helped, I suppos6.” 

Dick was not much moved by this outburst, which struck 
him as exaggerated and uncalled-for. “ My good fellow,” 
he said, not very felicitously, “ I don't want the money; it 
wasn't the loss of two hundred pounds that I cared about." 

“ I am quite aware of that,” replied the other, bitterly; 
“ but I hope you will take the money, all the same, to 
please me. It's — a wedding-present, if you like,” he added, 
with a faint smile. 

“ I am very willing to accept your present, Jake, if that 
will make you any happier,” said Dick, taking the notes 
and tossing them carelessly into a drawer. 

Unlike the generality of rich men, he cared less about 
money than about any other earthly thing, and treated this 
considerable sum as if it had been the merest trifle. He 
wanted to add something kind, but scarcely knew what to 
say. The pale, sullen face and the .downcast eyes which 
refused to meet his, impressed him disagreeably. The 
form of consolation which finally commended itself to him 
was not quite the best that could have been hit upon. 

“ Come, Jake, don't look so gloomy over it. Nobody 
but ourselves knows what happened three years ago, and 
nobody else ever will know. You have made a fresh start; 
go on and prosper, and, in God's name, give up worrying 
yourself about what can't be undone.” 

Jacob made some inarticulate murmur and presently 
went away. He had been quite prepared for his reception; 
he had felt sure beforehand that Dick would never say 
“ Let us be friends again,” yet he was sore and disappoint- 
ed. If those few words could have been spoken his char- 
acter might even now have been altered; but the words 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


117 


that he had heard were so many fresh wounds, which would 
smart for weeks and months to come, and might not im- 
probably poison his sick mind beyond hope of cure, as the 
sting >f an insect will sometimes prove fatal to those whose 
blood is in a diseased state. But how was a straightfor- 
ward, plain-dealing fellow like Dick Herbert to understand 
all this? 


CHAPTER XIV. 

MRS. PIERPOINT. 

One afternoon, some weeks after the announcement of 
Hope’s engagement to Mr. Herbert, a young gentleman, 
whose somewhat perturbed mien contrasted with the very 
careful accuracy of his get-up, rang at the door of one of 
the smallest houses in Green Street, Mayfair. He asked 
for Mrs. Pierpoint, was admitted, and presently groped his 
way into a diminutive drawing-room, darkened to suit 
modern requirements, and a little overcrowded with the 
Satsuma and Kioto ware, the old silver and enamels and 
miniatures which are the outward evidences of modem 
taste. 

Behind a tea-table in a corner of the diminutive drawing- 
room sat a diminutive lady, who immediately said: 44 1 
know what is the matter. You have heard that your flame 
is going to be married, and you have come to tell me that 
it is all my fault.” 

44 And so it is your fault,” Captain Cunningham de- 
clared, dropping into a low chair and casting his hat away 
from him with the air of one to whom glossy hats could 
henceforward be neither a care nor a consolation. 4 4 If it 
hadn’t been for you this would never have happened. ” 

44 If I could think so,” remarked Mrs. Pierpoint, 44 1 
should be able to flatter myself that I had not lived alto- 
gether in vain; but I am afraid I must not claim all that 
credit. The utmost that I have done has been to save you 
from getting into one more stupid scrape. ” 

Mrs. Pierpoint had been for some years Bertie Cunning- 
ham’s friend, confidante, and adviser. Her age was nearer 
forty than thirty; but she had preserved her girlish figure 
and as much as could be expected of the beauty for which 
she had once been famous. Time could not mar the per- 


118 


a bachelor's blunder. 


feet profile formed by that low brow, that little Greek nose, 
that short upper lip and rounded chin. Some lines, it is 
true, showed themselves about the mouth and eyes, and 
the complexion was no longer what it had been; but the 
abundant brown hair was as yet unstreaked with gray, only 
the gold having faded out of it. She was a bright, viva- 
cious woman, who liked hunting in winter, and society in 
spring, and yachting in summer, and Bertie Cunningham 
all the year round. Some people were pleased to say dis- 
agreeable things about her; but as these things were not 
true, there is no need to dwell upon them. She had a 
husband with whom she managed to live on terms of amity, 
though there had been a time when she had believed that 
is would be impossible to her. Many things are found 
possible w T hich do not appear so at first sight. Mrs. Pier- 
point had learned to shut her eyes to what ^he did not wish 
to see, to accept what there was no satisfactory mode of 
escape from, and to conceal anj r sufferings that she may 
have felt from a world which dislikes nothing so much as 
the contemplation of suffering. It is probable that her 
moral standard was not a very exalted one; but she was a 
brave, kind-hearted little soul, who tried to do her duty 
according to her lights, and spoke evil of neither man nor 
woman. 

“ If it hadn't been for you," Bertie Cunningham went 
on, ‘reproachfully, “ I should have got those people to ask 
me down to Ilelston at Christmas. You know I should." 

4 4 And afterward?" 

“Afterward? — Afterward ! Well, I should have seen 
her, and she wouldn't have gone and engaged herself to 
this fellow, that's all. Oh, you may call me conceited if 
you like — I don't care. I'm much too miserable to care 
what I am called. Herbert, of all men! She can't pos- 
sibly love him, you know. Now, don't go and say that 
she does." 

“ Would it be any comfort to you to think that she did. " 

“ Yes — no — I don't know. I am beyond reach of com- 
fort. You don't understand what it is; you're so awfully 
stony-hearted. I should just like to see you desperately, 
miserably in love with somebody!" 

“ I fancy that I have outlived the power; but thank vou, 
all the same. I have seen you in that condition once or 


a bachelor's blunder. 


119 


twice before, and I don't feel much alarmed about you. 
You'll be all right again in a few weeks." 

4 4 That is a most horrid, unfriendly thing to say!" cried 
Cunningham; 44 besides being perfectly untrue. You never 
in your life saw me in love before. Some fancies I may 
have had — there's nothing to laugh at — I say I may have 
had a passing fancy or two; but nothing in the least like 
this. This is the real thing, and I shall never get over it. " 

44 Do you think you will die of it, then? Have a cup of 
tea in the meantime." 

44 1 said nothing about dying," returned the young man, 
with some asperity; 44 1 said I should never get over it, 
and I never shall. If I were talking to anybody but you I 
should say that my heart was broken; but I won't say so 
to you, because as a matter of course you would begin to 
laugh. You are laughing already. Well, I suppose there 
must be something killingly funny in the suffering of a 
friend, since it amuses you so much; but I don't quite see 
the joke myself." 

44 1 am not laughing," said the little lady, who indeed 
had only smiled. 44 1 am really sorry for you, and I quite 
believe that it hurts for the moment; only I can not pre- 
tend to regret Miss Lefroy's engagement. You know as 
well as I do that you never could have married her, and 
therefore — " 

44 Oh, yes; that's the way you kept going on all the 
winter. I wish to Heaven I hadn't listened to you!" 

44 Do you know that you are becoming rather rude? But 
never mind; I didn't expect gratitude. What I was going 
to say was that, as you could not have afforded to marry 
Miss Lefroy yourself, it really can not signify much to you 
whom she marries or when she marries. To be sure," 
added Mrs. Pierpoint, thoughtfully, 44 1 would rather have 
heard that she was engaged to any other man than Mr. 
Herbert. It may lead to complications." 

44 What complications?" Cunningham asked. 

44 You know what I mean. I am afraid you will be apt 
to make love to the wife when you ought to be making love 
to the sister. " 

Cunningham groaned. 44 1 wish you were not so deter- 
mined to marry me to Miss Herbert! I am not going to 
marry her; I am not going to marry at all. Why on earth 
should I?" 


120 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


“Because it is good for you; because you want money; 
because Carry Herbert is by far the best-looking heiress 
that I know, and because you really did like her very much 
not so long ago.” 

“ Like her!— oh, yes, I liked her well enough; but that 
was before I saw Hope — Miss Lefroy, I mean. Everything 
is changed now, and there is only one woman in the world 
whom I could possibly marry. I say, do you believe Hick 
Herbert is in love with her?” 

“ I know nothing about it, but I presume so. Accord- 
ing to you, her charms are sufficient to account for his be- 
ing in love wi th her. ” 

“ Yes; but I always imagined that Herbert was a regular 
woman-hater, and he gave out ever so long ago that he 
didn't mean to marry. I expect Lady Jane has made up 
the match.” 

Mrs Pierpoint was beginning: “ If she has, it is much to 
her credit ' ' —when Mr. Francis was announced, and she 
rose to shake hands with the new arrival. “ We were just 
talking about your friend Mr. Herbert,” she remarked. 

“Were you?” said Francis. “Then let us talk about 
something else.” 

“ After that we certainly can't talk about anything else 
until you have explained yourself. Don't you approve of 
his marriage?” 

“ Does anybody ever approve of the marriage of his best 
friend? Isn't it a well-known fact that the chances are 
twenty to one in favor of his best friend's wife hating him 
like poison? In this instance the chances may safely be 
counted as fifty to one, because the only time that I ever 
spoke to Miss Lefroy I was happily inspired to tell her that 
a woman who married poor Dick from worldly motives 
would infallibly make him and herself miserable. ” 

“ She is marrying him from worldly motives, then?” 

“ Judging by the spirit in which she received my re- 
marks I should imagine that she was; but I am not in Miss 
Lefroy 's secrets. I shall buy a very nice wedding-present for 
Dick; I shall see him through on the fatal day, and then 
bid him a tearful farewell. I give him eighteen months 
to repent of his bargain and return to me in sackcloth and 
ashes. That would bring us to just about the proper time 
of the year for the big game in Abyssinia.” 

“ You are indeed a friend of the right sort. And what 


a bachelor's blunder. 


121 


is Mrs. Herbert to do when you go after the big game in 
Abyssinia?" 

“ Mrs. Herbert, I take it, will amuse herself with little 
games in England. I don't wish to be the prophet of 
evil. I may be quite wrong, and they may turn out the 
happiest couple under the sun; but I have opinions of my 
own upon the subject of matrimony in general and of Dick 
Herbert as a married man in particular. " 

He had views, which he was rather fond of unfolding, 
upon most subjects, and perhaps he would have been will- 
ing to state his matrimonial views now; but it was already 
past six o'clock, and other visitors, before whom such sub- 
jects could not conveniently be discussed, began to drop in, 
one by one, until the little room was almost choked with 
them. 

Among the latest arrivals was Miss Herbert, who was 
welcomed by Mrs. Pierpoint with that peculiarly affectionate 
cordiality which women are wont to display toward another 
of their sex in the presence of the man to whom they desire 
to marry her. Why they should behave in this manner it 
is not easy to discover; for the man, unless he is very dull 
indeed, sees and understands it ail, and, as a general thing, 
it makes him both uncomfortable and obstinate. It is not 
everybody who, like Bertie Cunningham, is prepared for 
all kinds of feminine stratagems and is confident of his 
own power to resist them. 

That experienced youth knew quite well that a chair 
close to his would be found for Miss Herbert, and he also 
had good grounds for believing that Miss Herbert had a 
crow to pluck with him; but he did not allow these things 
to disturb his equanimity. He got her a cup of tea, resumed 
his seat, smiled pleasantly, and waited for her to begin the 
attack. She looked very handsome in that subdued light, 
and, broken-hearted though he was, it was always agreeable 
to him to contemplate a handsome woman. The clouds 
which had gathered upon her brow when she first caught 
sight of him began to disperse as she returned his gaze. 

‘‘ Captain Cunningham," said she, “ how ought one to 
treat a correspondent who never answers one's letters?" 

‘ 4 Go on writing until he does answer, I should think," 
replied Bertie, promptly. 

“ That might become monotonous. Perhaps a simpler 
plan would be to give up writing to him altogether." 


1 22 


A bachelor's blunder. 


44 1 can't help fancying," said Bertie, 4 4 that these ob- 
servations are meant to apply in some mysterious way to 
me. If so, I can only say that that is the plan which j r ou 
have adopted. I haven't had a letter from you for a very 
long time; but I am sure I answered every time that you 
wrote. If you didn't hear, it must have been the fault of 
that disgraceful post-office, which is always mislaying my 
correspondence. I mean to make a formal complaint to 
the postmaster-general about it one of these days." 

Miss Herbert smiled. Perhaps she believed him; per- 
haps she only wanted to believe him. He was bending 
forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and was looking 
up into her face with those innocent dark-blue eyes which 
many a woman before her had found irresistible. The most 
absurd of all the illusions that we cherish are those which 
we know to be illusions; but it not unfrequently happens 
that these are just the ones with which we are most unwill- 
ing to part. 

Miss Herbert drank her tea silently; the smile was still 
hovering about her lips as she handed the empty cup to her 
neighbor. In general, her voice, if not exactly harsh, was 
hard; but nothing could have been gentler than the intona- 
tion with which her next words were spoken. 44 1 wonder 
whether you will take the trouble to come and see me some- 
times, now that I am in London." 

44 Of course I will," Bertie answered; 44 where are you 
staying?" 

She gave him one of her cards. 44 Dick has taken a 
house for the season," she said. 44 1 suppose you have 
heard about poor Dick?" 

The young man winced slightly. 44 Yes, I've heard. 
What in the world is he doing it for?" 

44 Really that is more than I can tell you. There ap- 
pears to be no pretense of affection on either side. " 

44 1 knew it!" exclaimed Bertie, off his guard. 44 1 was 
certain that there couldn't be anything of the kind!" 

44 Why were you so certain?" asked Miss Herbert, sus- 
piciously. 44 Are you acquainted with the girl?" 

44 Well, yes; just acquainted," answered the other, recol- 
lecting himself. 44 That is, I have met her twice in my 
life. It didn't strike me that she was at all in Dick's style. 
This really ought not to be allowed to go on, you know." 

Miss Herbert laughed. 44 If you think that Dick can be 


a bachelor's blunder. 


123 


prevented from doing anything that he has made up his 
mind to do, you must have had very few opportunities of 
studying his character. After all, why should it not be 
allowed to go on? It is very unlikely that he will live and 
die a bachelor, and I don't know that Miss Lefroy will not 
suit him as well as anybody else. I was introduced to her 
yesterday, and I thought her a very decent sort of person. " 

A decent sort of person! Bertie stroked his nascent 
mustache and held his tongue with some difficulty. He 
valued peace too much to put the thoughts that were in 
him into words; but he was not sorry that the conversation 
at this juncture became general. "When Miss Herbert took 
her leave he had recovered himself sufficiently to bestow 
that slight pressure upon her fingers which he supposed that 
she expe cted. 

As soon as he and Mrs. Pierpoint were once more alone, 
the latter remarked, dryly, “ I am glad to see that you are 
still capable of making love to a lady who has 1 merit of 

“You calHhat a merit! Besides, I didn't make love to 
her at all — how can you say such things? I have never 
m ade love to her. " 

“ Oh!" 

“ Well, I am speaking the truth. I know what it will 
be; some fine day you will manage to get me into such a 
position that I shall be obliged to propose to Miss Herbert 
or some other heiress, and then I shall be nicely caught!" 

“ You must acknowledge that, if I have anything to do 
with the catching, I shall at least be disinterested. You 
heard what Mr. Francis said just now about the wives' of 
one’s best friends, and I suppose the same rule applies to 
the husbands. This is a peculiarly hard case, since both 
you and Carry Herbert are friends of mine. I wonder 
whether you will both show me the cold shoulder as soon as 
you are married." 

“I can't tell what she might do," said Cunningham; 
“ but I can answer for myself. Cold shoulder wouldn’t be 
the word. If ever you bring such a thing about, my im- 
placable resentment shall pursue you all the days of your 
mortal life. " 

“ This is very sad and very discouraging," said Mrs. 
Pierpoint; “ but I think I will take my chance all the 


124 


A BACHELOR S BLUNDER. 


same. Perhaps you won't hate me; you may even live to 
thank me — who knows?" 


CHAPTER XY. 

HOPE DOES HER DUTY. 

Spring had passed imperceptibly into summer; the 
trees in Eaton Square were as green as London trees can 
contrive to be; the season was in full swing; the ceaseless 
turmoil of the vast city had become slightly increased in one 
of its quarters; a few of its inhabitants were spending hun- 
dreds and thousands of pounds upon entertainments which 
afforded no very keen delight to anybody; others were dy- 
ing of hunger in garrets; at Westminster statesmen and 
would-be statesmen were calling one another bad names 
and occasionally doing a little business. That astonishing 
mixture * tragedy and farce which goes by the name of 
life, and wmch, from force of habit, none of us find aston- 
ishing, was, in short, being enacted as usual; and the 
circumstance that a single individual among those millions 
had rather rashly engaged herself to marry a man whom 
she did not love was, doubtless, trivial enough. What can 
it matter whether one atom in the swarm lives or dies, is 
happy or unhappy? Since, however, all is relative; since 
the world in which we dwell is but a speck in the immen- 
sity of space, and since it and we might be extinguished to- 
morrow without even a momentary cessation of the music 
of the spheres, it is evident that we have only to apply the 
same theory upon a somewhat larger scale in order to con- 
vince ourselves that nothing which has ever happened upon 
the surface of this planet is of any consequence whatsoever 
— a proposition which seems too bold to be gulped down by 
mortal swallow. And so we return to the comforting con- 
clusion that small things are just as important as great, and 
that Hope Lefroy's destiny was at least of supreme conse- 
quence to herself. 

There were moments when she felt it to be so; but for 
the most part she allowed herself to float down the stream 
of fate, not without a restful sense of relief in the thought 
that her struggles against the current were ended. Her- 
bert came to see her from time to time — not by any means 
every day; Gertrude endeavored, with more or less of sue- 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


125 


cess, to interest her in the purchase of her trousseau ; Lady 
Jane purred over her contentedly; the more distant mem- 
bers of the Lefroy clan came to offer their felicitations and 
their wedding-gifts; the days slipped away somehow or 
other, and were not such bad days, taking them all in all. 
She went as little as possible into the world, the compara- 
tive recency of her father’s death giving her an excuse for 
declining invitations; but she could hardly refuse to be 
present at her aunt’s annual ball, and it was upon that oc- 
casion that she encountered Captain Cunningham for the 
first time since her engagement. 

It must be confessed that the sight of the young Guards- 
man agitated her a little for a moment; he himself was 
agitated, and possibly did not try very hard to veil his agi- 
tation. But it was rather her memory than her heart that 
was stirred, and she speedily regained her self-possession. 
“ No, thanks!” she said, in answer to his immediate re- 
quest, “ I am not going to dance to-night.” 

“ Oh, but just once! — for the sake of old times,” he 
pleaded. 

“ Well, perhaps once,” she answered, hesitatingly. 
“ But not now; later in the evening, if you’re disengaged 
then,” and with that she turned away. 

After all, why should she not have just one last dance? 
Without quite knowing it, she looked forward to her mar- 
riage in much the same way that many people look forward 
to death — as the end of everything, a huge barrier, beyond 
which there may or may not be some new kind of happi- 
ness, but surely no renewal of dancing or laughter or other 
frivolous delights. 

Cunningham was too adroit, or too much engaged, to 
claim the promised dance before two o’clock in the morn- 
ing, the consequence of which was that he was awaited with 
some little impatience. He looked sad and interesting; he 
said very little, but placed his arm round his partner’s 
waist, and, as she was whirled away into the throng, it 
seemed to her for an instant as if careless youth had come 
back, and all the events of the past year might be forgot- 
ten, and she might fancy herself at her first ball again. 

An insignificant circumstance interfered with the con- 
tinuance of this illusion. The house in which Hope had 
first been introduced to London society had been a very 
large one, whereas that in Eaton Square was only of mod- 


126 


A bachelor's blunder. 


erate size. In so restricted a space collisions could with 
difficulty be avoided, and anything like the poetry of motion 
was quite unattainable. After making the circuit of the 
room once, Hope paused, and, disengaging herself from 
her partner, declared with a touch of petulance that it was 
out of the question to dance in the midst of such a rabble. 
“ We may as well sit down," she said, and suited the ac- 
tion to the word. 

“ Ah!" sighed Cunningham, as he followed her exam- 
ple, “if we could only go back to this time last year!" , 

“ That is just what I was thinking; it seems so much 
more than a year ago!" 

“ I suppose it wouldn't make much difference if we 
could," the young man said with another sigh; “what 
must be will be. Only, so long as things haven't actually 
happened, it always seems as if other things might be pos- 
sible, don't you know?" 

To this incoherent sentiment Hope made no reply, and 
he continued: “ I wonder what we shall be doing this time 
next year. Probably I shall be wishing that I could have 
this evening back again. Next year you will be Mrs. Her- 
bert, and perhaps your husband won't let you dance." 

“ I don't think Mr. Herbert is likely to lay any prohibi- 
tions upon me," answered Hope, coldly. 

She was not pleased with him for alluding to her mar- 
riage. There are certain reticences for which women are 
always grateful, and she had credited Cunningham with 
some delicacy in that he had refrained from offering her 
any empty congratulations. Of course he must suspect 
what her motives for marrying were, and, as he was no re- 
lation of hers, of course he could see no cause for rejoicing 
in such a match. But he might have let the subject alone. 

Fortunately he did not seem inclined to pursue it. His 
next words were: “ Do you remember that day last winter 
when I met you in the Park?" 

“ Quite well," answered Hope. 

“And I told you I should get your people to ask me 
down to Helston at Christmas. How I wish I had!" 

“ We should all have been glad to see you; but most 
likely you were better amused hunting in Leicestershire 
with your friend Mrs. Pierpoint. " 

“ How did you know that I was there?" asked the young 
man in some astonishment. 


A bachelor's blunder. 


127 


“Everything is known. Did you wish it to remain a 
secret?" 

“ Oh, dear, no! there is no secret about it. Pierpoint 
told me I could ride his horses "while he was away, so I 
went down to Melton for a few weeks and stayed with a 
cousin of mine. Only I thought, from the way you spoke 
— that is, I hope you know that I would a thousand times 
rather have been at Helston than in Leicestershire. " 

61 Really? I can't quite understand why." 

But in truth she did understand what he meant her to 
infer; and, if she had not, the eloquent expression wliich 
he now threw into his eyes would have enlightened her. 
This knowledge, however, did not cause her heart to beat 
any the faster. Captain Cunningham might possibly, under 
different conditions, have become something to her; but he 
was nothing to her now — she was quite sure of that — nor 
did she believe much in his sincerity. No doubt the im- 
passioned gaze with which she was at that moment being 
honored had been directed at half a dozen sets of features 
in the course of the evening. But there she did him an in- 
justice. Had he been less seriously in love with her, he 
would not have hesitated to be a good deal more explicit; 
but Hope was not to him what other women were, and 
since he could no more ask her to throw Herbert over and 
marry him than he could propose to a princess of the blood 
royal, he heroically refrained from going beyond hints and 
glances; which, according to his code, was no small con- 
cession to the behests of duty. 

These meeting with no response, the conversation grad- 
ually languished. Neither he nor she felt altogether at 
ease"; the interview was a disappointment to both of them, 
and Hope was not sorry when Herbert lounged up to her 
side and put an end to it. With Herbert she did feel at 
ease; never was there a less exacting fiance. If she hap- 
pened to be in a talkative mood, he sat and listened to her 
with apparent pleasure; if, on the other hand, she preferred 
to remain silent, that seemed to suit him quite equally well. 
She told herself a dozen times a day that she- ought to be 
very thankful, and that she never could have got on so 
smoothly with any one else in the world. It was necessary 
that she should tell herself this, because every now and 
then he provoked her to an extent for which she was puz- 
zled tr account; and indeed, although storms are not to be 


128 


A bachelor's blunder. 


desired, there are few tempers capable of holding out 
against a perpetual equatorial calm. 

There was no disturbing Dick Herbert's good-humor; 
otherwise he might have been made a little anxious by the 
fits of nervous irritability to which Hope became subject as 
the day of her marriage drew nearer. “ Do you realize 
what you are doing?" she asked him suddenly once; “do 
you know that you are marrying a woman who has the 
makings of a termagant in her?" 

He smiled and replied that he was willing to run that 
risk. 

On another occasion she besought him to tell her whether 
he did not in his heart believe it to be wicked to marry 
without love. “ It must be wicked — I am sure it must be! 
Though I don't think the Bible says anything about it. " 

“ Neither the Bible nor I have a word to say against the 
practice," Dick answered. 

“But perhaps you think it wrong, though you don't say 
so. Wouldn't you like to be off your bargain? Come! — 
there is still time. " 

“ Well — hardly, is there? Think of the feelings of your 
family. " 

Hope burst into an hysterical laugh. “ What would 
they do to me! It would be almost worth while to break 
the engagement off, if only for the sake of passing through 
such a startling experience. But of course I am talking 
nonsense," she added, becoming grave again. “ I should 
never have the moral courage to retreat now; perhaps, if I 
had had any moral courage, I should never have advanced. 
It has all been your doing from first to last. " 

“ I don't mind accepting the entire responsibility," said 
Dick. 

That was the worst of him: he didn't mind anything. 
It was this unreasonable complaint that Hope inwardly 
formulated against a man who let her do exactly what she 
pleased now, and who would in all probability continue to 
let her do what she pleased hereafter. Unquestionably such 
a treasure was thrown away upon her; and so, in truth, 
her friends appeared to think. When they Game to con- 
gratulate her, they one and all expatiated upon Dick's good 
qualities, and had an unflattering way of implying that she 
was a great deal more lucky than she deserved to be. Even 
Mills, who could not be accused of undervaluing her former 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


129 


mistress, was abundantly satisfied with the match, and 
-spoke of Mr. Herbert in terms of such extravagant, not to 
say ignorant, eulogy, that Hope could not help calling at- 
tention to one small defect of his. 4 4 He is sixteen years 
older than I am, you know. Mills. ” 

44 And a very good thing too. Miss Hope. I don’t feel 
no confidence in young men, nor yet no respect for ’em,” 
said Mrs. Mills, whose own husband was considerably her 
junior. 44 What you want,” she went on, 44 is somebody 
to take care of you; and that Mr. Herbert will do. I’d a 
deal sooner it was him than the other.” 

44 What other?” Hope inquired. 

44 Why, him as you walked with that day in the park, my 
dear. I was took with him at first, I don’t deny, for I have 
always been partial to good looks, having none myself; but 
when I come to think it over, I didn’t feel so sure of him. 
No, my dear; it’s best as it is, you may depend. ” 

44 The gentleman whom you speak of never asked me to 
marry him,” said Hope; 44 and no doubt everything that 
happens is always for the best. At all events, you will be 
.a gainer, you poor old Mills, for you won’t be dragged away 
from your duties any more now to sit in artists’ studios all 
the morning.” 

44 The Lord be praised for that!” ejaculated Mills pious- 
ly. 44 Not that I grudged the time, as well you know. Miss 
Hope; but dear me! it wasn’t the right thing at all for a 
young lady like you to be going to such places. I felt so 
all along, though it wasn’t for me to speak; and that there 
Mr. Tristram, I believe he thought the same as I did. ” 

44 Very likely,” answered Hope. 

She had no doubt that Tristram, in common with every- 
body else, held that opinion. In her inexperience she had 
imagined that it might possibly be the right thing to earn 
her own bread; but evidently this was not so. The right 
thing was to remain, by hook or by crook, in the station to 
which she had been born; the right thing was. to be rich. 
If riches did not chance in her case to be synonymous with 
bliss, that was her own fault. The consciousness of duty 
performed should be sufficient for all well-ordered minds. 

It Was in the very last days of her spinsterhood that Hope 
held the above colloquy with Mills. She had gone to Hen- 
rietta Street to take leave of her old nurse and her old 

5 


130 


A bachelor's blunder. 


rooms, and had contemplated continuing her pilgrimage 
to South Kensington in order to take leave also of her old 
master. But now she gave up that idea. What would be 
the good? What pleasure could there be in hearing con- 
ventionalities from the unconventional Tristram? These 
might more appropriately be spoken after the ceremony, to 
which he had been invited and at which she presumed that 
he would be present. So she went straight back to Eaton 
Square and shed a few tears in private. 

Ko modern Joshua being at hand to arrest the remorse- 
less progress of time, the sun rose punctually at 4:30 a.m. 
on Hope’s wedding-morning to pursue his wonted course of 
shining upon the just and upon the unjust, among the 
former class of which persons might surely be included a 
young woman whose faltering steps had let her at last into 
what she believed to be the path of duty. When he sunk 
once more beneath the horizon-line Hope Lefroy had be- 
come Mrs. Herbert, and Lady Jane, resting from her labors, 
breathed a fervent thanksgiving that the proceedings of the 
day had passed off without a hitch. 

The good lady had not felt quite sure that there would be 
no hitch; but that numbness of the whole nervous system 
which is often brought about by a crisis, and which is no 
bad substitute for courage, enabled Hope to bear herself 
from first to last with the most creditable composure. Her 
wedding was only a little less magnificent than that of her 
cousin had been. Dukes and duchesses were not quite so 
well represented at it; and thje reporters of the daily papers 
appeared at the church in somewhat diminished numbers; 
but the requisite bishop was not lacking, nor had any ex- 
pense been spared in the way of floral decoration. Dick 
Herbert, in a new suit of clothes, got through his task with, 
ease and distinction, supported by the dissatisfied Francis, 
who had assumed a smiling mien in spite of his dissatisfac- 
tion. The only thing that Hope afterward remembered to 
have seen during the service was Tristram's shaggy head 
rising above- a sea of others, and she noticed that he was 
studying the scene with a pensive, melancholy air, as if 
thinking that a picture might possibly be made out of it. 
But it was certain that Tristram would never paint any- 
thing so hopelessly commonplace as a fashionable wedding. 
He said something to her— she did not clearly understand 
what— when he shook hands with her after “the rite was 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 131 

concluded. There were so many people to be shaken hands 
with and so many 'meaningless words to be listened to! 

However, the ordeal did not last long. Hope, placing 
Lerself in the hands of the new maid who had been engaged 
for her, exchanged her bridal array for a traveling-dress; 
immediately after which she seemed to wake out of a trance, 
and found that she was seated beside her husband in a 
brougham, moving rapidly toward the station, whence they 
were to depart for Folkestone and the Continent. 

She faced round upon him with quivering lips and dilated 
eyes. 

44 Now,” she exclaimed, 44 1 hope you are satisfied!” 

44 It seemed the best. thing to do,” he answered calmly. 

Then she turned away, looking out of the window, and 
did not speak again until the short drive was at an end. 

Gertrude, when the company had dispersed, was moved 
by curiosity to put an indiscreet question to her mother. 

44 Mamma, do you think they will be happy, those two?” 

44 They have everything to make them so,” Lady Jane 
declared boldly. 

44 Not quite everything, have they: I suppose he must 
be fond of her; but she has said from the beginning that 
she is not the least in love with him. Jt seems rather 
dreadful! I hope I shall not marry a man whom I don’t 
care for. ” 

44 1 sincerely hope not, my dear,” said Lady Jane; 44 1 
should never venture to advise any one to do that. And 
yet love is not so absolutely essential as young people are 
apt to think. I have known many instances in which peo- 
ple who have married from — other motives have got on 
vdry well.” She sighed faintly. Perhaps she did not 
speak upon the subject without some personal knowledge 
of it to guide her. 44 At all events,” she concluded cheer- 
fully, 44 it is a thousand times better for Hope to be living 
at Farndon and mixing in the society to which she has been 
accustomed, than masquerading about London in the dis- 
guise of a female artist.” 

Mr. Lef roy walked down to his club, where he met several 
of his late guests. 44 Well, Lefroy,” said one of them, 
44 you look very beaming. Has the Birmingham Caucus 
been swallowed up by an earthquake?” 

44 No,” answered Mr. Lefroy; 44 but I’ve married iny 
niece to ope of the best fellows that ever stepped.” 


132 A bachelor’s blunder. 

“ Quite- so; but you might have married her to anybody- 
for that matter. To my mind hers is far and away th& 
most beautiful face that has been seen in London this 
year.” 

“ Well, yes,” assented Mr. Lefroy. “ Oh, yes, she is 
perfect to look at, certainly; still I don’t mind admitting 
to you that I’m glad to get her off my h^nds. No vice, 
you understand; but awkward to drive— very awkward to 

drive. ” 

“ And you think she’ll go steadier in double harness,, 
eh?” 

“ I haven’t a doubt of it. She’ll go steady enough now 
— no more shying or bolting. Only I’m not sure — this is 
strictly between ourselves, of course— I’m not quite sure? 
that I should care to change places with Dick Herbert. ” 


yjf* CHAPTER XVI. 

A WELCOME. 

Fortunately for its occupants, Farndon Court has: 
never been a show place; but that does not prevent it from 
being one of the most charming houses in Berkshire. Th& 
original structure, which certain prints still extant depict 
as a somewhat gloomy mansion of the Jacobean style, was 
burned to the ground in the early part of the present cent- 
ury, and Dick Herbert’s father, then a young man who 
had recently returned from making the grand tour, had it 
replaced upon another site, by as near a reproduction 
as his architect could achieve or would consent to of a 
Renaissance French chateau, with steep roofs, jutting 
wings, and high windows, which at a later period were 
fitted with plate glass. The edifice has been a good deal 
criticised, but no one has ever thought of disputing the 
beauty of its position. It stands on an eminence, ap- 
proached from the north by a long, straight avenue, while 
on the south (toward which quarter the windows of the 
principal reception-rooms look) is a broad terrace, termi- 
nated by a stone balustrade, some ten feet beneath which 
are level lawns and geometrically designed flower-beds, 
according well enough with the formal character of the 
building. From the limit of these the ground falls gently 
to the shores of a lake of respectable size, and Beyond that 


133 


A bachelor’s blunder. 

woods stretch away as far as the eye can reach. From 
every side, indeed, of this happily placed dwelling an un- 
dulating sea of greenery extends into the far misty distance. 
All the charm of woodland scenery is there, without that 
sense of oppression which the too near neighborhood of 
trees is apt to convey. The park is not large, nor for the 
matter of that is the entire property a very extensive one; 
but it has the appearance of being boundless, no line of 
demarkation being perceptible at the points where it touches 
Windsor forest. 

As for the interior of the house, it was comfortable, 
though hardly what in these days would -be considered 
pretty, or capable of being rendered so. The rooms were 
spacious and lofty, but of course lacked those nooks and 
corners upon which we have learned to set so high a value; 
and the furniture, which had been purchased at an epoch 
when gilding, damask, and huge mirrors were -held to ex- 
haust the resources of art and luxury, was^as Dick’s 
friends had frequently informed him — meretricious in ' the 
last degree. By the time that Dick had decided to give his 
home a mistress it had become extremely shabby into the 
bargain, and as he had the best reasons for distrusting his 
own taste in such matters, he thought he could not do 
more wisely than summon a celebrated upholsterer, turn 
him loose in the house, and briefly instruct him to “ do it 
up and make it decent in a couple of months.” 

The celebrated upholsterer accepted the commission with 
glee. He came down from London, accompanied by his 
myrmidons, and carried out his orders in a thoroughly 
painstaking and conscientious manner. He did the house 
up and made it decent according to his notions, which w T ere 
those of the most modern school, and did not allow himself 
to be hampered by any slavish adherence to congruity. 
The abomination of gilding was promptly reduced ; the 
walls became clothed, some in tapestry, some in an imita- 
tion of stamped leather, others in papers of a somber hue; 
an immense consignment of old oak — or at any rate of oak 
which seemed to be old — arrived and was distributed about 
the premises; a pleasing irregularity displayed itself in the 
arrangement of the brackets which supported the late Mr. 
Herbert’s collection of old Chelsea and Bow; all the doors 
were taken off their hinges, and others, made of solid wood, 
were put in their places. With those immense windows. 


134 


a bachelor's blunder. 


there was no excluding the light; but the best that could 
be done with heavy curtains was done. Then the upholsterer 
rested from his labors, feeling that he had performed his 
duty, and in due course sent in an account which caused 
even Dick Herbert to purse up his lips and whistle. 

Late one afternoon toward the end of September, Miss 
Herbert was pacing pensively up and down the terrace 
already alluded, to. She had arrived the day before, had 
inspected, with elevated eyebrows and a mental appraisal 
of the cost, the transformation effected within-doors, and 
she was now awaiting the owner and his bride, whose 
home-coming was expected to take place that evening. 
It has been said of an eminent statesman that he pos- 
sesses every virtue except that of resignation. Of Miss 
Herbert it was never said that she possessed every 
virtue; but from the list of those that she did possess the 
same deduction would assuredly have had to be made. 
Perhaps she was one of those persons who are born to rule: 
she had, at all events, been accustomed to rule over Farn- 
don for a long time, and the prospect of resigning her 
authority was not agreeable to her. 

Her musings as she .gazed out at the yellowing woods 
and the mists rising from the lake were in keeping with the 
melancholy that belonged to the season and the hour. She 
herself was entering upon the autumn of life, and there 
were moments when she was painfully aware of the fact. 
Looking back upon the by-gone spring and summer-time, 
she felt that she had not made hay while tliQ sun shone,. or 
that at least she had made it after a fashion wdiich had left 
her nothing to show in the shape of crop. She had cer- 
tainly amused herself very well during a considerable num- 
ber of years, if that could be called making hay. When 
she had been young and handsome and an heiress, she had 
found the world at her feet, and, finding it there, had been 
unable to resist the temptation to kick it. She had had 
many suitors whom she had fooled to the top of their bent 
and had dismissed, without scruple or mercy, as soon as 
they began to weary her. Whilst she walked on the terrace 
at Farndon that September evening, she was thinking to 
herself, as the generality of us think, that if she could only 
take a fresh start and begin life over again, she would act 
in quite another way. But to take a fresh start was im- 
possible; because, although she was still handsome and 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


135 


still an heiress, she was no longer young; and nobody knew 
better than Miss Herbert that that made all the difference. 
It had suited her to assume that those lovers of hers had 
been attracted to her originally by mercenary motives. If 
she had succeeded in capturing their affections, and if they 
had suffered when she jilted them, that was her fair revenge 
and they had no business to complain. But now she was 
inclined to be less severe in her judgment of them, having 
a reason of her own for sympathizing with all lovers, and 
especially with disappointed ones. Not one of those men 
had ever touched her heart; she had been wont to assure 
them that she really had no heart to be touched, and had 
almost believed that she was speaking the truth in so assur- 
ing them. It was not until her beauty was already on the 
waue that, in an evil hour, she had encountered Bertie 
Cunningham, and had learned that neither years nor ex- 
perience nor a skeptical temperament are any sort of protec- 
tion against the malady to which all mortals are liable. 

That amiable, selfish, and pleasure-loving young man had 
played the part of Nemesis with a success of which he was 
in nowise conscious. He had flirted with Carry Herbert; 
he had admired her greatly at first; there had been a mo- 
ment when — his finances being in a terribly disordered con- 
dition — he had been upon the verge of proposing to her; but 
a lucky week at Newmarket had set him on his legs again, 
and he had decided to keep his libert}^. All this Miss Her- 
bert knew and understood perfectly well. She was furious 
with herself for loving this boy as she did; her reason told 
her that her love was not, perhaps could not be, returned; 
yet to give up hope and let him go was more than she could 
accomplish. Sometimes she cheated herself into thinking 
that he had loved her once; sometimes she cherished the 
still more absurd delusion that she might be able to make 
him love her yet. But what tortured her most of all was 
her knowledge that she would accept him without hesita- 
tion, even though he should tell her in so many words that 
it was her money, not herself, that he desired. 

An admission of that kind is not a pleasant one for a 
proud woman to have to make to herself, and it is hardly 
surprising that at the age of two-and-thirty Miss Herbert 
should have been a soured and disappointed woman as well 
as a proud one. Her brother's marriage was a serious 
vexation to her. She had never played second fiddle, and 


136 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


could neither imagine herself in that position nor see any 
way of escape from it. Had she been able to feel as she 
had felt a year or two back, the matter would have been 
simple enough. She would have married A or B (there 
was still more than one such person available) and migrated 
to another little kingdom. But now she shuddered at the 
bare thought of what would formerly have seemed to her 
the most natural solution of the difficulty. Perhaps the 
one comfort remaining to her was the right which she felt 
to despise all those who married for the sake of money or 
convenience. In this category she considered that she was 
justified in including Hope — which was more or less of a 
special comfort to her. 

44 Of course we shall detest each other,” she muttered, 
standing out there among the falling leaves. 44 If Dick 
goes off and she is left here, as she probably will be before 
long, we must try to keep the house full of people. A pro- 
longed tete-a-Ute would be insupportable!” 

Somebody who was crossing the lawn with a hurried step 
caught sight of her at this moment, paused irresolutely, 
raised his hat, and passed on. But she stopped him with a 
somewhat imperious movement of her hand. 44 How do 
you do, Stiles?” she said (she always addressed him in this 
way, as if he had been a servant, and it was one of several 
reasons that he had for disliking her); “I did not know 
that you were in the house. ” 

44 I have been here for a week, Miss Herbert,” answered 
Jacob. (It was his habit to call her 44 Miss Herbert” in- 
stead of 44 Ma’am,” and that was one reason, among others, 
why she disliked him. ) 

4 4 Oh, really? And why are you not down at the station, 
cheering and throwing up your hat?” 

44 I did not wish to put myself forward,” replied Jacob. 

4 4 1 heard that some of the tenants were to go down to the 
station on horseback,” he added. 

44 Well, you are a tenant — of a kind, are you not? I 
should have thought you would have felt bound to give 
vent to your joy like the others. But perhaps you don’t 
rejoice; perhaps your tenancy is coming to an end.” 

Jacob glanced quickly at the clear-cut features above 
him, which wore a slightly derisive expression. 44 Nothing 
has been said to me,” he answered hesitatingly. 44 Did — - 
did Mr. Herbert speak to you about it?” 


A bachelor's blunder. 


137 


“ Oh, no; only there are going to be changes; and, as 
you are aware, I myself have always considered your posi- 
tion a very equivocal one. " 

“ I believe that you always have. Miss Herbert." 

“ And it seems not unlikely that the new mistress of the 
house may wish to make a fresh arrangement of rooms. 
The more so as she is by way of being an artist and will 
probably require a studio of some kind." 

“ I can leave at any moment," Jacob said, with a faint 
flush on his cheeks. 

“ I donT know that you will be required to leave, Stiles. 
Mrs. Herbert may take a liking to you; only, if I were in 
your place I should be prepared for the chance of her doing 
the reverse. A new mistress is apt to be a rather arbitrary 
sort of person." 

“ I should think," observed Jacob — “ very likely I may 
be wrong — but I should think that she would be guided in 
most things by her husband's wishes." 

“ I should think — and it is not so very likely that I am 
wrong — that she would be guided entirely by her own in- 
clinations." 

“ May I ask. Miss Herbert," inquired Jacob, with a 
great show of deference, “ whether you have met this lady?" 

“ Of course I have met her. " 

“ And is she — er — ?" 

“ Pretty? Oh, yes, she is pretty." 

“ I see," said Jacob demurely, with his eyes cast down 
as usual. 

There are few things more disagreeable than sitting down 
inadvertently upon a wasp's nest. It was a sensation of 
this kind that Miss Herbert experienced when the above, 
discreet insinuation reached her ears. It was beneath her 
dignity to take any notice of it, and indeed it had been be- 
neath her dignity (if she had thought of that in time) to 
speak about her sister-in-law at all to this low-born young 
man; but the truth was that she had stopped him because, 
being thoroughly out of temper with the world at large, she 
had longed to say something disagreeable to somebody. 
How it is always a mistake to say disagreeable things 
to your inferiors: for they either hold their tongues — in 
which case you feel that you have been a brute; or else 
they have the audacity to retort — and then, if you have any 
respect for yourself, it is you who must remain silent. The 


138 


a bachelor's blunder. 


sound of the village bells, followed by that of distant cheer- 
ing, put an end to a colloquy which had lasted too long. 
Miss Herbert turned away and walked to the other end of 
the terrace, while Jacob escaped into the house. 

From the spot where Miss Herbert was now standing she 
could, by craning her neck a little, get a glimpse of the 
avenue, and thus she presently became aware of the ap- 
proach of a somewhat disorderly cavalcade. The form of 
Mr. Potter, the land-steward, could be discerned leading 
the way on his roan horse; behind him jogged a throng of 
burly farmers, in the midst of whom was Dick Herbert, 
driving a mail-phaeton, with his wife by his side; a consid- 
erable number of farm-laborers were keeping up with the 
carriage on foot, shouting lustily as they ran. 

“ How truly ridiculous!" exclaimed Miss Herbert under 
her breath. “ What idiots they look! and how poor Dick 
must hate it all! If I were he, I should offer them an in- 
stant reduction of rent and drinks all round to go away." 

Then, as the angle of the house hid the procession from 
view, “ I suppose I must go and do my share of the hum- 
bug now," she murmured; and passing slowly through the 
drawing-room and the hall, she reached the entrance j ust 
as Dick pulled up his horses and turned to make the little 
speech which was awaited from him. It was a very little 
speech: his sister listened to it from the top of the steps 
and was shaken with inward laughter. 

“I'm awfully obliged to you fellows for giving us such a 
hearty welcome. So is Mrs. Herbert; she wishes me to ex- 
press her thanks. We shall value very much the piece of 
plate which you were so kind as to present to us on our 
marriage. Hope to meet you all at dinner before long. 
These are bad times for farmers; not particularly good 
ones for landlords either. But it can't be helped; so we 
won't say any more about it. Good-night, all of you." 

After this brief sample of Dick's eloquence there was a 
good deal of cheering, and then the assembly dispersed; 
the humbler portion of it, no doubt, getting its thirst as- 
suaged before leaving tha premises. 

Miss Herbert advanced to greet the bride. “ Shall I kiss 
her? Probably it will be expected of me." So she bent 
forward and just touched with her lips the cool, fresh cheek 
which was presented to her. Then* drawing back a little, 
she took a keen survey of her supplanter. “Why, the 


a bachelor's blunder. 


139 


woman looks positively radiant!" was her unspoken com- 
ment. 44 Can she be really enamored of Dick,, after all?" 

At that moment Hope certainly bore all the outward 
semblance of a happy bricle. Her eyes were sparkling, the 
excitement or the fresh air had brought the color into her 
face, and she looked, as Miss Herbert was fain to admit, 
even prettier than she had looked on her wedding-day. 
Dick, who had stopped to say a few words to the servants, 
joined the two ladies before either of them had spoken, and 
then they all three entered the drawing-room together. 

4 4 What a pretty room!" exclaimed Hope. 

A bright fire was burning in the grate; the wax-candles 
in the sconces which had been placed between the tapestried 
panels shed a mellow light upon chairs, tables, curtains, 
and other articles of furniture, which were undoubtedly 
pretty in themselves, and a plentiful supply of flowers had 
been brought in from the hot-houses. 

44 1 suppose it is pretty," agreed her husband dubiously, 
stroking his chin, while he surveyed the achievements of 
the upholsterer. It has rather a stagey sort of look to me; 
but I expect that is my lack of artistic perception. Have 
you been over the house. Carry?" 

44 1 have," answered Miss Herbert. 

44 And what do you think of it?" 

44 1 think that I would rather you paid the bill than I. " 

44 Oh, bother the bill!" said Dick. 44 My only fear is 
that Hope may tell me it is all wrong. I sha'n't let her 
see more of it than I can help to-night. Suppose we go 
and dress for dinner now." 

At dinner Miss Herbert had opportunities for gauging 
the affection that existed between the newly married couple, 
and was compelled to abandon all her preconceived ideas 
upon that point. 44 They are nothing more nor less than a 
pair of lovers," she thought, not without some disgust; 
44 and I foresee that it will be my pleasing occupation to be 
perpetually hiding myself lest I should be in their way." 
She remarked aloud: 44 You have made a very long honey- 
moon of it. Where have you been, and what have you 
been doing all this timer" 

44 Upon my word, I don't quite know," answered Dick. 
44 We have been dawdling about — Switzerland and Venice, 
and the Italian lakes, you know. " 

./‘Living in hotels among herds of tourists, and being 


140 


a bachelor's blunder. 


dragged off every day to see sights by a courier. Weren't 
you bored to death?" 

“ Well, no," replied Dick, “ I don't think so. Were we 
bored, Hope?" 

“ I was not," answered Hope, with a smile. 

“ You see, we were in Venice most of the time, and there 
were plenty of pictures for her to look at there," observed 
Dick explanatorily. 

But that did not account for the meaning ^ look which 
Mrs. Herbert had sent across the table at her husband and 
which Carry had caught on its passage. Really it was a 
little provoking. If these two people had married for love, 
why on earth could they not have said so, instead of cheat- 
ing others into the belief that they merited pity and con- 
tempt? To be sure, they might still deserve both; every- 
thing depends upon the point of view; but Miss Herbert 
felt that if she were to be logical her standpoint must now 
be one of sympathy. In any case, this kind of thing was 
not likely to last long; and she was kind enough to give 
Hope an inkling of what might be anticipated as soon as 
they had adjourned to the drawing-room after dinner, leav- 
ing Dick to his claret and his cigarette. 

“ I suppose," she began, “ that Dick is full of shooting 
engagements, as usual." 

“ I have not heard of any," Hope answered. 

“ Perhaps he hasn't read his letters yet. Generally he is 
in great request at this time of year. He doesn't shoot his 
own coverts till later in the season. I have always tried to 
pay visits in the autumn, because it isn't particularly lively 
to be quite alone in a place like this; but of course we can 
ask people down to stay now." 

“ Shall I not be invited to go with Dick, then?" asked 
Hope. 

Carry laughed. C£ Very likely you will be invited, for 
form's sake; but I don't think I should accept if I were 
you. Women are not really wanted at those big shooting 
parties, you know. " 

“ But I don't know," said Hope; “ the truth is that I 
know nothing at all about such things. There were plenty 
of women at Helston while the shooting was going on. " 

“ Oh, Helston is another affair altogether. Shooting 
there isn’t the serious business that it is in the houses 
which Dick frequents. Besides, I fancy that even the most 


A bachelor's blunder. 141 

devoted of husbands appreciates a holiday every now and 
then. As for Dick, he has beendn the habit of doing ex- 
actly as he pleases all his life long, and he is a little bit too 
old to change now. " 

“ Possibly it might please him to take me with him," 
suggested Hope. 

At this Carry laughed again. “ Oh, it might, no doubt; 
but if I were in your place I wouldn't make too sure of 
that. If you want him always to look as amiable as he did 
this evening, I should strongly advise you to let him have a 
long tether." 

4 ‘ I have not the slightest intention of keeping him at 
home against his will, or of following him about when he 
doesn't want me," answered Hope; “ only I certainly shall 
not care to have visitors here during his absence. I can 
put up with my own company better than most people." 

She spoke with apparent good humor; but the sound of 
her voice showed that she was slightly annoyed, and Miss 
Herbert thought that that allusion to her own company 
was probably meant to be significant. 

It was perhaps just as well that Dick came in from the 
dining-room before any further exchange of ideas could 
take place between two ladies, each of whom was thorough- 
ly determined not to make the stupid mistake of quarrel- 
ing with the other. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

JACOB AS A HERO. 

The virtues and advantages of early rising have been ex- 
tolled from time immemorial. The advocates of sitting up 
late have so little chance of being listened to that they sel- 
dom venture to assert themselves, and must take comfort 
from the thought that their habit is more imitated, if less 
admired, than the other. However, both practices have 
one advantage in common, namely, that of increased elbow- 
room for him who adopts them, and a sense of self-appro- 
bation arising from the knowledge that he has all his wits 
about him, while so many of his fellow-mortals are hori- 
zontal, unconscious, and quite powerless for good or evil. 
It was probably for this reason that that young misanthrope 
Jacob Stiles was wont to take his walks abroad at an hour 


142 


A BACHBLOR’S BLUNDER. 

when the blinds at Fahidon Court were still down and no- 
body was stirring, unless it might be the grooms taking the 
horses out to exercise. 

Jacob slipped out noiselessly, as usual, on the morning 
after the return of the master of the house; and a very fine 
morning it was. An autumn sun, with little enough 
power in it, but luminous enough to satisfy the soul of 
any rising artist, was sending slant rays across the drenched 
grass of the park; the mists were curling up from the lake, 
and the woods, in all the glory of varied color, suggested 
no thought of death or decay at that moment of general 
awakening. Jacob strolled along one of the graveled paths 
which led through clumps of rhododendrons to the shrub- 
bery, filled his lungs with the keen morning air, rejoiced 
in the fresh, moist smell of the earth, and thought to him- 
self — as he sometimes did before the cares of the day came 
upon him — that this world, despite all that seems to prove 
the contrary, must really be a place in which man is meant 
to be happy. 

If his back had not been turned to the house, he would 
h%ve seen that another early riser had emerged from it and 
was following in his footsteps. Also, if he had possessed 
that power of thought-reading which has found so much 
favor with our half-skeptical, half-credulous generation, 
and which would be so excessively inconvenient if it were 
real, he might have discovered that that other person’s re- 
flections were pretty nearly identical with his own. Never 
yet had Hope known any troubles which a bright morning 
could not dissipate, at least for the time being. It is proba- 
ble that she had not retired in the best of spirits after her 
conversation with her sister-in-law on the previous evening ; 
but when one is twenty years of age, and in perfect health, 
heaviness is apt to endure but for a night. Hope had now 
been two months married, and she had spoken nothing but 
the truth in saying that she had not felt bored during that 
time. If she and her husband were not precisely the lovers 
that Miss Herbert had hastily assumed them to be, they were 
at any rate excellent friends, and as Hope had never ex- 
pected more than that, she had every reason to be satisfied. 
Hick had been kindness itself. Certainly no lover could 
have been more anxious to surround her with luxuries and 
to make her journey enjoyable for her; and now that she 
had been brought back to her new home, she found it all 


A BACHELOR^ £LUHDER. 143 

that she could have wished. When she had walked some 
little distance, she turned and looked ''back at the house, 
with its steep roofs glistening in the sun, and had no fault 
to find with its architecture. It was not so grand a place 
as Helston Abbey; but it had a more habitable air, and 
seemed to smile in a friendly manner upon its young mis- 
tress. Hope improved the occasion by a few good resolu- 
tions. She was not going to be fretful and capricious 
again, as she knew that she had sometimes been during her 
engagement; she was not going to waste any more time in 
wondering whether her lot was exactly that which she would 
have chosen, if she had been free to choose; above all 
things she was not going to be exacting. What, under the 
circumstances, could be more absurd than that she should 
show herself exacting? Of course Dick must be allowed to 
go away and stay away as often and as long as he pleased; 
when he came home it would be her duty to make his home 
pleasant for him, that was all. It was true that that duty 
might be a little more easy to perform if his house had not 
happened to contain a sister of cynical proclivities; but 
Hope was determined not to dwell upon drawbacks that fine 
sunshiny morning; so she turned away again and resumed 
her walk toward the shrubbery. 

Thus it was that Jacob,* who was standing with folded 
arms, gazing absently at. the view, became conscious of her 
approach. She did not see him; and, obeying the impulse 
which was always his first impulse on catching sight of a 
fellow-creature, he concealed himself behind a belt of ever- 
greens and waited. She passed quite close to him, walking 
slowly and swinging the sunshade which she carried in her 
hand, while he, peering between the branches, scanned her 
features with eager curiosity. His verdict upon her was 
that Miss Herbert had made use of a very inadequate ex- 
pression in describing her as pretty. “I am not at all 
sure," lie mused, “that she is not the most beautiful 
woman I have ever seen. She has a good face, too; I 
don't think she will want to turn me adrift; though God 
knows it would be no great misfortune to me to be turned 
out of Farndon!" 

Then he became more analytical. Jacob's art-studies 
had been conducted in harmony with those canons for 
which Tristram could not find words to express his scorn, 
and knew what the ideal human form ought to be. He 


144 


A BACHELORS BLUHDER. 


measured Hope by this standard, and found that her de- 
fects were too trifling to deserve mention. After that he 
proceeded to somewhat subtler but not less confident con- 
clusions. “ There is an odd sort of expression in those 
gray eyes of hers; she seems to be looking for something 
that she hasn't found yet. She is not unhappy, but she is 
not happy either; and it would surprise me very much to 
hear that she was in love with her husband. " 

This shows that Jacob's powers of observation were of 
no mean order, and that, for all his disinclination to look 
liis neighbors in the face, he must have studied them sur- 
reptitiously to some purpose. Indeed, if he had not done 
so he could hardly have been the very promising artist that 
he was. 

Hope, meanwhile, pursued her leisurely way, happily un- 
conscious that behind the bushes on her right hand there 
lurked a youth capable of drawing such startlingly rapid 
deductions from a mere glimpse of her face. On reaching 
the end of the shrubbery she found herself at an iron gate, 
beyond which a foot-path led across the park; and as she 
had still plenty of time before her, she wandered down this 
until at length she came to the margin of the lake, where 
she found a punt moored. Ii^is a peculiarity of punts, as 
distinguished from other boats, that nobody can look at 
them without instantly wishing to get into them and sit 
down. Hope experienced this desire, and although the 
seats of the punt in question were still wet with the night 
dews, she gave effect to it. She had not been seated long 
when another ambition, almost equally natural and harm- 
less, took possession of her. Some fifty yards away from 
her. there was a small island, round the shores of which a 
bed of water-lilies had spread itself. The silver cups dotted 
over that expanse of flat green leaves were all the more 
tempting because they were out of reach, and after Hope 
had contemplated them longingly for a little while, and 
had noticed that a long pole was lying at her feet, she 
could not resist unfastening the painter which attached the 
punt to its stake. 

Now everybody knows that water-lilies are not easy 
flowers to pluck; but everybody does not know— -because 
there are comparatively so few people who have tried it — 
that it is even more difficult for a novice to manipulate a 
punt-pole. Hope pushed herself off from the bank quite. 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


145 


successfully; but she soon discovered that to shape her 
course for any given point was another matter. Also, the 
punt-pole had a disagreeable tendency to get under the 
bottom of the punt and drag her, head first, into the water 
after it. Rather than let it succeed in this malignant in- 
tention, she allowed it at last to slip out of her fingers al- 
together — a thing she never would have done if she had 
realized what must be the inevitable result of such impru- 
dence. To be drifting about in a flat-bottomed boat close 
to dry land, yet hopelessly removed from it, and to see the 
punt-pole, which might be the salvation of you, floating in 
a tantalizing manner just beyond your grasp, is a position 
trying alike to the patience and the dignity. Hope would 
gladly have paid five pounds to anyxme who would have 
rescued her from it; but as nobody to whom five pounds 
could be offered was in sight, and as she could not bring 
herself to the humiliating course of shrieking for assistance, 
there was nothing for her to do but to sit down and make 
the best of it. ‘ 4 1 suppose they will begin to look for me 
when I don’t turn up at breakfast/'’ she reflected, 4 4 and 
then there will be a hue and cry. If it were only Dick I 
shouldn’t mind so much, but I feel sure that. Carry knows 
how to use a punt-pole, and will be quite unable to under- 
stand what I dropped the thing into the water for. Per- 
haps if I wait long enough it will float back to me.” 

But it did nothing of the kind. On the contrary, it 
drifted in the opposite direction, and Hope was disconso- 
lately wondering whether she would be drowned if she 
jumped overboard, when, to her great joy, she caught sight 
of a slim young man, hastening across the slopes of the 
park with an evident intention of offering help. This was 
no other than Jacob Stiles, who from the wooded hill above 
had watched Hope’s proceedings, and had seen what had 
happened to her. When he reached the brink of the lake 
he paused for a moment in his irresolute way, and then, 
raising his hat, called out, 44 You have lost your punt-pole, 
haven’t you? Shall I come and lend you a hand?” 

44 Oh, please do!” cried Hope, without stopping to ask 
herself how her request was to be complied with. 

Jacob made no reply, but sat down and began to unlace 
his boots. 

44 What are you going to do?” asked Hope, anxiously. 

44 Can’t you go and get a boat?” 


146 


A BACHELOR’S BLUNDER. 


“ The boat-house is half a mile away, and I don't know 
who has the key/' answered Jacob, kicking off his boots. 
“ Don't be alarmed; I can swim like a fish." 

“Oh! but you mustn’t — you really mustn’t!" remon- 
strated Hope. And then, under her breath, “ What an 
extraordinary young man! Surely he can’t be going to 
take all his clothes off!’’ 

He was not so indiscreet. He only divested himself of 
his coat, waistcoat, and hat, waded a short distance into 
the water, and then struck out. The punt-pole was soon 
captured and restored. 

“ Now, do you think you can manage to shove yourself 
back?’’ he asked, rather breathlessl}-. 

“ Oh, yes, if you tell me what to do,’’ answered Hope; 
“ but hadn’t I better try to drag you into the boat first?’’ 

“Iam all right, thank you,’’ said Jacob; “ I can swim 
back in less time than it would take me to scramble into 
the punt.’’ 

That seemed likely enough, and, not to keep him longer 
in the water than she could help, Hope said no more, but 
followed his instruction, and so was enabled in the course 
of a minute or two to set foot on shore again. Then she 
began to feel very sorry and very much ashamed, and ex- 
pressed herself to that effect. 

“ Why did you not go and get the boat as I told you?’’ 
she asked, reproachfully. 

“Because it would have taken such a long time,’’ an- 
swered Jacob, who was standing up to his knees in water 
and making the punt fast. “ Was it those water-lilies that 
you wanted?’’ 

“ Yes; it was very stupid of me. I wish I had not hap- 
pened to see them. ’’ 

“ I can easily get you some, if that is all,’’ remarked 
Jacob, unfastening the knot which he had just tied. 

“ Indeed,’’ exclaimed Hope, “ you will do no such thing! 
What are you thinking of? Your teeth are chattering as it 
is, and you look quite blue with cold. You must go home 
at once. I won’t keep you even to say thank you; but I 
shall see you again soon, I hope. I am Mrs. Herbert. 
Perhaps you live somewhere near this?’’ 

“I live here,’’ Jacob replied, smiling. ‘ 4 My name is 
Stiles — Jacob Stiles.” He brought out the two last words 
with something of an effort, for it was always painful to 


A .bachelor's blunder. 147 

liim to pronounce that plebeian name of his. Moreover, 
he perceived that Mrs. Herbert had mistaken him for an 
equal, and to correct mistakes of that kind is what nobody 
ever enjoys. 44 Have you not heard of me?” he asked, see- 
ing that she looked none the wiser. 

Hope shook her head. The fact is that Dick had only 
once chanced to mention his protege to her, and that was 
so long ago that the circumstance had escaped her memory. 
She was a good deal puzzled to account for the presence at 
Farndon of an inmate who had the appearance and voice 
of a gentleman, though his existence had apparently been 
thought too unimportant to be made known to her, and she 
would gladly have put a few more questions to him. How- 
ever, even if he had been quite dry, she might have hesi- 
tated to do that, and to cross-examine him in his present 
dripping condition would have been tantamount to man- 
slaughter. So she said: 

44 You really must not stand here talking another minute, 
Mr. Stiles. Do go back to the house, and run the whole 
way, please.” 

44 I should find it rather easier to walk, if you don’t 
mind,” answered Jacob, emboldened by the friendliness of 
her manner to adopt a somewhat more familiar tone than 
was customary with him. 

44 Well, as it is all uphill, and your clothes are so heavy 
with the water — only mind you walk very fast, and pray 
don’t lose any more time. We shall meet later in the day 
— that is, unless you think you had better go to bed.” 

44 There will be no necessity for that,” said Jacob. 

He had now resumed his coat and boots, and was with- 
out excuse for lingering longer; so he did as he was told, 
and was soon out of sight. 

Hope followed him at a less rapid pace. When she en- 
tered the breakfast-room she found Dick and Carry already 
seated, and perusing their respective letters. 

44 1 have made a good start,” she remarked, as she took 
her place; 44 1 have had an adventure already. Why did 
you never tell me anything about a Mr. Stiles, who says he 
lives here?” 

44 Probably because it never occurred to him that Stiles 
could be the hero of an adventure,” observed Carry. 44 On 
second thoughts though there would be a certain appro- 


148 A bachelor’s blunder. 

priateness in it if he were; for he happens to be an advent- 
urer. ’ 9 

“ I don’t know why you are always so down on poor 
Jake, Carry,” said Dick. 44 He is no more an adventurer 
than lam; he is an artist — and an uncommonly clever one, 
too, for that matter. I thought I had spoken to you about 
him, Hope. How has he been distinguishing himself this 
morning?” 

44 By plunging into an ice-cold lake with his clothes on,” 
answered Hope. 

And then she gave a brief account of the episode alluded 
to, whereat both her husband and Miss Herbert laughed, 
the former good-humoredly, the latter ironically. 

44 I condole with you,” Carry said. 44 It was hard luck 
to have such a compliment paid to you by a romantic- 
looking youth, and then to discover that he was only a 
Jacob Stiles after all. If you confine yourself to adventures 
of that kind you won’t find Farndon very exciting, I am 
afraid. ’ ’ 

44 I dare say it will be exciting enough to satisfy me,” 
answered Hope, rather dryly. She could not help thinking 
that Carry had every inclination to treat her to the excite- 
ment of a pitched battle; and that seemed a little hard, 
considering how pacific her own dispositions were. 

As soon as breakfast was over, Dick asked her whether 
she would like to go over the house with him, a proposal 
to which she readily assented. She expressed herself much 
pleased with all that she saw; and, indeed, the bedrooms 
afforded little scope for criticism. On the first floor Dick 
put his head into a large and comfortably furnished sitting- 
room, and, having ascertained that it was empty, threw 
open the door. 

44 These are Carry’s quarters,” he explained. 44 Carry 
is a young woman of fortune, I ought to tell you. She has 
her own servants and her own horses, and all the rest of 
it. I suppose she would have her own house, too, only her 
uncles and aunts kicked up such a row when she talked 
about living alone. I hope you won’t find her awfully in 
your way here. ” 

He cast a rather appealing glance at his wife, who smiled 
back upon him reassuringly. 

44 Don’t be afraid,” she answered; k< I mean to conduct 
myself properly.” 


a bachelor's blunder. 


149 


And as they perfectly understood one another there was 
no need to dwell any longer upon a ticklish subject. 

44 Now,” said Dick, leading the way down-stairs again, 
* 4 I'll show you my den. I had it locked up while those 
furniture people were rampaging about, so you won't find 
it as spick-and-span as the rest of the house; but such as it 
is, it's what I'm accustomed to, and I didn't want it med- 
dled with." 

Spick-and-span it certainly was not; but, like every other 
room in Farndon Court, it was large, airy, and cheerful. 
An immense oak writing-table, facing the windows, was 
covered with a mass of newspapers, letters, bills, and other 
documents, tossed pell-mell upon it by its untidy owner; 
the walls exhibited every known variety of gun and rifle, 
besides numerous fishing-rods and a few magnificent heads 
of wapiti, ibex, antelope, and other big game. But it was 
not upon these things that Hope's eyes rested ; for the mo- 
ment that she passed through the door- way she caught sight 
of two easels, supporting two pictures, with every detail of 
which she had good reason to be familar. It must be con- 
fessed that her first sensation on recognizing these works of 
art was one of keen disappointment; but the next instant she 
remembered that there was nothing to be disappointed 
about. A few months ago it might have been another 
affair; but now, what could it signify? 

44 So you were my one and only patron," she said, turn- 
ing to her husband, with a slight laugh. 44 I might have 
suspected as much." 

44 Well, yes," answered Dick, apologetically. 44 You see, 
I thought I should like to have something of yours, and — " 

44 And you thought you would like to give me a little 
false encouragement at the same time. Thank you; it was 
kind of you, Dick." 

4 4 Intentions were good," murmured Dick, who perhaps 
knew more of what was passing m his wife's mind than she 
supposed. 

She turned away with a sigh. 44 All that belongs to the 
past," she said. 44 The grapes are sour now, and I don't 
want to be an artist any more. Tell me about the real 
artist — Mr. Stiles. Does he live here always? And how 
comes he to be here at all?" 

44 Jake? Oh, there isn't much to tell about him. I 
took him up — adopted him, you may say — when he was a 


150 


A bachelor's blunder. 


little chap, and he has made his way by his own exertions. 
They tell me he will be an R. A. one of these days. W ould 
yon like to see his studio? We shall find him at work most 
likely/' 

“ Unless he is in bed with symptoms of rheumatic fever 
coming on," remarked Hope. “ The very least I can do 
is to inquire after him. " 

Jacob, however, was not in bed, and declared himself to 
be none the worse for the cold bath that he had taken. 
Hope noticed a change in his voice and a certain constraint 
in his manner, which made her fancy that he was not best 
pleased at being intruded upon; but that did not deter her 
from lingering awhile in the great bare studio which had 
been assigned to him at the top of the house. There was 
not very much to look at; for it was Jacob's system never 
to undertake more than one work at a time, and the canvas, 
before which he was standing exhibited only a rough out- 
line. Yet, rough though it was, it interested Hope, who 
recognized in it a dexterity such as she had never been able 
to attain to. 

“ I wish I could do that!" she sighed. 

Jacob had none of the pride that apes humilit}'. 44 It 
takes a long time to learn," he said; “ but I think almost 
anybody who chooses to take the trouble can learn it. " 

“ Ah," said Hope, rather sadly, “ that is what I used to 
think; but I know better now." 

And then a conversation began in which Dick felt that 
he was in no way qualified to take a part, so he said: “ I 
think I'll just go round to the stables. You can entertain 
each other for a bit, I dare say." 

Jacob seemed to breathe more freely after he was gone. 
He had a good deal to say about painting, and said it with 
modesty and knowledge of his subject, and after a time he 
produced a portfolio of sketches with which Hope was 
greatly struck. His style was the opposite to Tristram's^ 
being chiefly remarkable for its exquisite finish; but there 
was nothing small in his treatment of a subject, and his 
arrangement of color, light, and shade had the ease of a 
master of his craft. 

“ You ought to be very happy!" exclaimed Hope rather 
enviously, when she came to the end of the collection. 
“ Have you sent anything to the Academy yet?" 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


151 


“ Not yet; I thought it best to wait until I was pretty 
sure of success. ” 

“ But of course you will exhibit soon; and then all of a 
■sudden you will find yourself famous.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Jacob. 

The listlessness of his tone surprised Hope, who looked 
up at him with inquiring eyes. 

“ Are you not ambitious:” she asked. 

“ I don't think I have much ambition,” he answered. 
<i I shall be satisfied if I can make enough to live upon.” 

“ You are quite sure of being able to do that; and, after 
all, that is a great deal. At least, I used to think so. Did 
Mr. Herbert tell you that I once intended to be an artist?” 

“ He said that you painted very well.” 

But not well enough, unfortunately. I was more am- 
bitious than you are; I wanted to excel. Still, like you, I 
should have been contented if I could have earned my bread 
by my brush . 99 

Jacob looked a little puzzled. ££ £ Earning your bread 9 
is only a way of speaking with you, Mrs. Herbert; to me it 
means more than you can understand, perhaps. I — I am 
living upon charity now. ” 

He flushed slightly as he uttered the last words, and 
Hoj)e, to relieve him, said: ££ That was just my own posi- 
tion. My father lost all his money at the time of his death, 
and it was quite necessary that I should do something to 
support myself. It is all over now, and I don't mind talk- 
ing about it; but it was a dreadful grief to me when I was 
told that I should never succeed.” 

££ How could anybody know that?” 

“ I suppose there are not many people who could have 
known it, or who would have liked to say so if they had; 
but it was a great artist who told me, and I am sure he was 
not mistaken. He knew how it would hurt me to hear the 
truth, and that made it all the more kind of him to speak 
honestly . 99 

Jacob was standing with one foot upon a chair, his elbow 
resting on his knee and his hand supporting his chin. He 
looked down with curious, compassionate eyes at Hope, who 
was seated near him. “ Was this long ago?” he asked. 

“ Oh, no; only a few months— although it seems like 
years.” 

She did not know what a quick-witted observer she had 


A 1 


152 


a bachelor's blunder. 


to deal with; but in truth a far duller fellow than Jacob 
would have divined the history of Mrs. Herbert's engage- 
ment and marriage after that. She herself felt that she 
had been a little too communicative, and changed the sub- 
ject. 

Jacob was very willing to talk about art and pleased to 
be talked to; but she did not succeed in breaking down his. 
reticence, or in inducing him to give her any information 
about himself. She went away at last, feeling sorry for 
the poor young man, although she could have given na 
definite reason for her pity, and was horrified to find that, 
she had taken up rather more than an hour of his valuable 
time. “ What a nuisance I must have been to him!" she 
thought. « 

She would have been very much astonished had she been 
told that that hour of conversation had earned her a friend 
whose gratitude and devotion would cease only with his 
life. Just so a vagrant dog, acquainted with the rough 
usage of the streets and the kicks of the passers-by, will at- 
tach himself to some kind-hearted person who stoops un- 
thinkingly to pat him on the head, and will never leave 
that kind-hearted person again. And this is one reason 
why kind-hearted persons and others — especially others — 
should beware of noticing' stray dogs. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

HOPE RECEIVES VISITORS. 

If Hope did not as yet feel any such attachment for Ja- 
cob Stiles as he felt for her, she was nevertheless greatly 
interested in him and anxious to hear a little more of his 
antecedents, because he seemed to require interpretation in 
more ways than one. Dick, when interrogated, was apt to 
become so hopelessly monosyllabic that she did not think it 
worth while to pursue him to the stables and attack him 
with questions; but, happening to find her sister-in-law in 
the drawing-room, she was able to glean a part of the in- 
formation that she desired from that quarter. 

“ I look upon Jack Stiles," Miss Herbert remarked, “ as 
a living example of the folly of heedless benevolence. Eor 
reasons best known to himself, my brother picked him up 
when he was a child, brought him into the house, and gave 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


153 


Mm what I suppose you might call the education of a gen- 
tleman. The natural consequence is that he is now about 
as miserable a being as you will meet with anywhere. At 
all events, he looks so. He is neither fish, flesh, nor good 
red-herring. ” 

4 4 He is an artist,” said Hope. 

4 4 Is he? I can’t pretend to your knowledge of such sub- 
jects; but even if he is, I should imagine it was not much 
consolation to him to be an artist, when nature evidently 
meant him to be a groom, or possibly a huntsman. Per- 
sonally I don’t like Stiles; his manners are not engaging, 
and he always gives me the impression that he would be in- 
solent if he dared; but, to do him justice, he is a finb rider, 
and though he doesn’t appear to have much pluck at ordi- 
nary times, he has plenty of it on horseback. I have a 
mare in the stables that I wanted to get rid of two years 
ago, because she frightened me by the way she touched 
timlDer. Stiles asked to be allowed to take her in hand, and 
now I wouldn’t part with her for any money. His system 
was to cram her at the biggest fence he could find, and give 
her a rattling fall; and three or four lessons were enough 
for her. It was a rather more heroic remedy than most 
people would like to adopt, but it was completely success- 
ful. ” 

44 And you allowed him to risk his life in that way:” ex- 
claimed Hope. 

Carry laughed. 44 He did it to please himself, I pre- 
sume; apparently he doesn’t set much store by his life. 
As for me, I really didn’t care whether I kept the mare or 
not, and I can’t say that I cared very much whether Stiles 
broke his neck or not either. You must try not to be 
shocked by my brutal frankness of speech; it’s a family 
f ailing. ” 

Hope thought she would let that observation pass with- 
out comment. 4 4 But I don’t yet understand,” she said, 
“ why Mr. Stiles should be miserable — if he is miserable.” 

44 You had better not have called him Mr. Stiles: he is 
not accustomed to it. I don’t think there can be much 
doubt about his being miserable; and the reason is what I 
told you. He won’t do for the drawing-room, and he 
won’t do for the servants’ hall; so he has to live. in a sort 
of no-man ’s-land and eat his dinner in his studio, which, 
when you come to think of it, must be dull work. ” 


154 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER, 


“ Of course it must be, and it seems very cruel to de- 
prive the poor young man of any kind of company. Why 
should he not dine with us?” 

44 I dare sa} 7- he would like that very much; but, unfort- 
unately, it is not practicable. Humble as I am, I can’t 
say that I should enjoy being taken in to dinner by Jacob 
Stiles, and we certainly could not ask our friends to sit 
down beside him. It is all Hick’s fault. He ought to 
have handed him over to the stud-groom in the first in- 
stance, instead of sending him to an expensive school. ” 

44 But as he did not do that--” began Hope, 

‘ 4 As he did not do that, the hapless Stiles must get what 
comfort he can out of painting -pictures and occasionally 
being rolled upon by Refractory mares, or plunging into 
ponds to rescue ladies who have managed to get adrift. It 
is bad luck for Stiles; but it can’t be helped.” 

This sounded a little peremptory, considering that Miss 
Herbert was not the mistress of the house; and, in spite of 
her wise resolutions, Hope could not refrain from arguing 
the point. 44 My father always used to say that talent has. 
the same privileges as birth,” she remarked. 44 Besides, 
when a man has been brought up as a gentleman and be- 
haves like one, that ought to be sufficient. I will ask Hick 
what he thinks about it. ” 

Two vertical lines appeared on Miss Herbert’s forehead, 
and it looked very much as if her teeth were set behind her 
rather thin lips; but she, too, had formed certain resolu- 
tions, and when she opened her mouth it was only to say, 
44 I had been -wondering what line you would take up with 
regard to Stiles. I warned him that you would very likely 
wish to turn him out, neck and crop; but he had the happy 
inspiration of rushing into the water after you, and now 
his position is assured. At the same time, I doubt whether 
Dick will be prepared to receive him as a member of the 
family.” 

And, considerably to Hope’s surprise and mortification, 
it turned out that Hick was not so prepared. She took the 
first opportunity of speaking to him upon the subject, and 
he answered without any hesitation that it wouldn’t do. 

44 Jake used to dine with me when he was younger, and 
before Carry came to live here,” he said; 44 but that was. 
another affair altogether. Things are best as they are for 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


155 


the present, and if he_goes on as he has begun, he will have 
a home of his own before very long.” 

“I think,” said Hope, ‘‘that he has been rather un- 
fairly treated. ” 

“ Do you? Well, perhaps he has in some ways; and yet 
I hardly see what else could have been done. Anyhow, it 
wouldn’t be either for his comfort or for ours to make a 
change at this time of day.” 

“ It might help the conversation out a little,” said Hope; 
for up to now her husband had gratified all her wishes, 
when he had not anticipated them, and it was grievous to 
think of Carry’s triumph. 

Dick rubbed his ear and looked contrite. “ This sort of 
thing must be awfully slow work for you, of course,” he 
said. “ We must get some people down here to amuse } r ou. 
Couldn’t you ask a lot of your friends?” 

“ I could, no doubt, if I possessed a lot of friends,” an- 
swered Hope; “ but as I have none, I must submit £o the 
slowness.” After this disagreeable speech her conscience 
smote her, and she added humbly, 4 ‘ I am sorry I spoke so 
crossly, Dick; I don’t really find it slow here at all. ” 

“ My dear girl,” answered Dick, good-humoredly, “ you 
weren’t a bit cross; and as for your finding it slow, you 
must — you can’t help it. I know that if I were in your 
place I should perfectly detest being shut up in a country- 
house with — with — ” 

. “ With whom?” inquired Hope. 

“ I was going to say with nothing particular to do. I’ll 
get Francis and one or two other fellows to come down 
and shoot next week. They will be better than nobody. ” 

Hope turned away, without replying. The matter-of- 
course and perfectly philosophical way in which Dick took 
it for granted that his society would not be acceptable to 
her vexed her, and made her angry with him. She and he 
were not lovers, it was true; but they were friends — at 
least, that was what he averred when he proposed to her — 
and friends ought surely to be able to live together without 
feeling the need of constant excitement. “ It is one word 
for me and two for himself, ” she thought, rather ungrate- 
fully. In truth, to ask a party of men down to shoot 
seemed rather a roundabout way of providing her with a 
change of company. 

Possibly this aspect of the case may have presented itself 


156 


A bachelor's blunder. 


also to Dick; for when, before the post w^ent out, he re- 
quested Hope to write the necessary invitations, these proved 
to he for the most part addressed to ladies whose husbands 
were shooting men, and who were begged to put up with a 
few quiet days at Farndon for their husbands' sake. With 
most of these ladies Hope was already more or less acquaint- 
ed, and she neither liked nor disliked any of them. Mr. 
Francis she did rather dislike, yet was prepared to extend to 
him the welcome due to Dick's most intimate friend. 

Everybody accepted, and everybody came. It seemed 
not unlikely that the alacrity of these good people was stim- 
ulated by a desire to see and criticise the bride, and it is 
certain that, when they assembled, the eyes of all of them 
were fixed upon her with a curiosity of which she was fully 
conscious. This she did not object to, thinking it natural 
enough, if a trifle embarrassing; and it ceased to be percepti- 
ble after the first evening. But she could not help resent- 
ing the closeness with which Mr. Francis watched her 
throughout his stay, because she felt sure that he was busily 
taking notes the whole time of the many particulars in 
which she failed to come up to his notion of what Dick Her- 
bert's wife ought to be. Also, she fancied that he com- 
municated his impressions to Carry, with whom he ap- 
peared to be upon exceedingly friendly terms. 

On the evening before his departure she committed the 
indiscretion of asking him whether he remembered a cer- 
tain conversation which she had had with him a few months 
before in Eaton Square. 

He made gestures to simulate the rending of his clothes 
and the heaping of ashes on his head. “ Mrs. Herbert," 1 
he said, “the memory of that dreadful conversation will 
remain with me to my dying day. I would ask you to for-* 
give me, only I know that that would be useless." 

“ I will forgive you," said Hope, “ if you will withdraw 
what you said on that occasion. " 

Francis made a grimace. “ The condition is a hard one 
to swallow," he remarked. “I don't think recantations 
are much good, as a general rule. Galileo recanted, and 
was sent to prison all the same; Cranmer recanted, and 
had to recant his recantation at the stake. You see, the 
worst of it is that I meant what I said. Only you might 
bear in mind that I didn't mean it to apply to you." 

“ But you think it applies to me," persisted Hope. 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


157 


“ My dear Mrs. Herbert, is it quite fair to impute 
thoughts to me which I have never expressed? But I will 
continue to be honest and tell you the simple truth, though 
I shall probably make you hate me worse than ever. I 
don’t know what to. think; I am puzzled.” 

“ Is not that, perhaps, because you are so very clever? 
People who are always trying to find out what lies beneath 
the surface must often be puzzled, I suppose; for it does 
occasionally happen that there is nothing to discover.” r 
“ Didn’t I tell you that I should make you hate me 
worse than ever? It can do me no harm now, and it may 
do you some good, if I assure you that every word I said 
about Dick that night was Gospel truth.” 

“ I have no doubt you believe it to be so, and I quite re- 
collect all that you said. Dick’s wife was to make herself 
his shadow, otherwise all sorts of terrible things would hap- 
pen; wasn’t that it? But, do you know, I fancy that Dick 
is quite contented with the one shadow which he already 
possesses. He has never yet asked me to share a single one 
of his pursuits; but, profiting by your kind advice, I have 
offered my company once or twice, and his polite resigna- 
tion has been beautiful to witness. This emboldens me to 
think that perhaps, after all, I may understand my hus- 
band almost as well as you do. ” 

A gleam of sudden and intense amusement swept across 
Mr. Francis’s face. He was thinking to himself, “ As I 
live, the woman’s jealous! and Herbert is a deep diplo- 
matist, without knowing it!” But he said aloud, with suit- 
able gravity: “ Don’t be weary in well-doing, Mrs. Herbert; 
in due season you will reap, if you faint not. ” 

And, with that, he turned on his heel, leaving Hope very 
angry. 

Whatever may have been Mr. Francis’s opinion of his 
friend’s wife, Hope’s other guests carried away with them 
the memory of a pleasant and gracious hostess. She exerted 
herself to make their stay agreeable, she found them easy 
enough to entertain, and she was heartily glad when they 
all betook themselves off. But what was far more delight- 
ful than this was Carry’s announcement that she intended 
to give herself an indefinite leave of absence. She had a 
round of visits to pay, she said, and really could not tell 
how r long they might last. She might be back in a week 
or two, or she might be away for a couple of months. 11 I 


158 


A bachelor's blunder. 


go and return as the fancy takes me," she explained. To 
which Hope could only reply that, that was the true way to 
enjoy life, and inwardly trust that her sister-in-law might 
long remain free from the fancy to return. 

Whether Dick's sentiments were identical with her own 
she could not tell for certain, because he was so silent and 
never spoke evil of the absent; but there were signs that 
increased freedom was not unwelcome to him. Had that 
freedom been just a little less absolute, Hope would have 
been better pleased. She was obliged to admit this to her- 
self, though somewhat ashamed of the admission. She was 
sure that the servants must think it odd that her husband 
should be away from morning till night, shooting, attend- 
ing magistrates' meetings, and what not. After all, he 
was her husband, and it would have been natural for him 
to offer to ride or drive with her occasionally. But he did 
not seem to think so; and certainly, when they met, he was 
as kind and friendly as it was possible to be. Nor did she 
find her life dull. She was accustomed to being left to her 
own devices, and she had occupations enough in receiving 
the neighbors, whose name was legion, in returning their 
calls, in driving the cobs which Dick had bought for her 
through the glades of Windsor Park and Forest, and in 
discussing art with Jacob Stiles, whom she saw every day. 

Nevertheless, a vague sense of disappointment was ever 
present with her. During her engagement she had been 
nervous and sometimes almost terrified, feeling that she 
was about to take a plunge in the dark, and that lifelong 
misery or remorse might be awaiting her. But it was noth- 
ing of that kind that she experienced. She was not at all 
miserable; marriage had brought her all that she had ex- 
pected in her most sanguine moments, and more — im- 
munity from care and control, an amiable and most un- 
obtrusive husband, and every luxury procurable by money. 
If she wanted something in addition to all this, what in the 
world could it be that she wanted? 

She was putting the above question to herself late one 
afternoon as she walked across the park toward the house, 
and she had not succeeded in finding an answer to it, when 
she caught sight of a horseman proceeding leisurely, with a 
loose rein, up the avenue. “ Another native, I suppose," 
she thought. “ Shall I see him, or shall I not? I think I 
won't. " 


a bachelor's blunder. 


159 


But it was too late to make any choice as to that; for the 
supposed native had seen her already, had turned his horse 
off the road, and was now cantering across the grass toward 
her. As he drew nearer, he raised his hat; and then Hope 
recognized him. 

“Captain Cunningham!" she exclaimed. “What can 
have brought you down into the depths of the country?" 

“ How do you do, Mrs. Herbert?" said the young man, 
dismounting and passing his arm through his horse's bridle. 
“ This isn't the depths of the country at all; it's within an 
easy ride of Windsor, where I have the misfortune — the 
good luck, I mean — to be quartered just now." 

He looked handsomer than ever in the dark-colored suit 
and Newmarket boots, which it is needless to say, fitted 
him to the utmost degree of perfection, and he appeared to 
he in the enjoyment of excellent health and spirits. “ I 
thought," continued he, “ that as I was within hail of you, 
you wouldn't mind my looking you up." 

“ I should have been deeply offended if you had not," 
answered Hope. 

She was unaffectedly glad to see the young fellow again, 
and had almost forgotten the constraint which had inter- 
fered with the pleasure of their last meeting. That, and 
the cause of it, were connected with the remote past; in 
Bertie Cunningham she saw only a friend of former days, 
whose unexpected vicinity might help to enliven present 
ones. “ Come into the house," she said, “ and I will give 
you a cup of tea." 

“ Is Miss Herbert here?" Cunningham inquired. 

“No; she has gone away to stay with some of her 
friends. " 

“ Oh! Anybody else staying with you?" 

“ Not a soul, I regret to say. You will have to put up 
with me for half an hour, if you will consent to remain so 
long. Dick is not likely to be in before dinner-time." 

“ That's all right!" cried the young man in a tone of 
hearty satisfaction. “ Then we can have a comfortable 
talk by ourselves and you can tell me all your news. " 

“ Only I haven't any to tell. You had better favor me 
with yours. " 

“ I haven't any either; but, never mind, we'll talk about 
something that isn't news. That will give us a rather 
longer list of subjects, won't it?" 


160 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

HOPE SPOILS SPORT. 

King David, it will be remembered, put off his sack- 
cloth, washed his face, and began to eat and drink as usual 
the moment he heard that his child was dead; thereby 
astonishing his friends, who surely might have known bet- 
ter than to be astonished at so simple and human a man- 
ner of meeting the inevitable. For what some people call 
resignation to the Divine will, and others merely recupera- 
tive force, is essential to our existence, and it is certain that 
there would be no getting on without it in this world of loss 
and disappointment. Bertie Cunningham was as little 
conscious of being a philosopher as the bourgeois gentil- 
homme was of talking prose; but this did not prevent him 
from regulating his life in accordance with strictly philo- 
sophical principles, of which the first and foremost was 
never to fret himself over what could not be helped. As 
soon, therefore, as Hope Lefroy had become the wife of 
another man, he sought consolation and change of ideas 
with so much success that, before the pheasant-shooting 
began, he was able to report himself to Mrs. Pierpoint by 
letter as completely cured. Now if he had not been com- 
pletely cured it would have been imprudent, not to say 
wrong, of him to call at Farndon Court; but as it was, 
what harm could there be in his renewing acquaintance with 
a lady to whom he had never declared his love, and who 
might now at least be his friend? 

He found her a little altered. Whether for the better or 
not it was too early to determine; but certainly she was no 
longer exactly what she had been before her marriage. 
She was more matronly, more dignified, perhaps a trifle 
graver; but there was nothing either in her face or in her 
speech to indicate that she repented of the step which she 
had taken. As for her beauty, that seemed rather to have 
increased than diminished, he thought, as he watched her 
drinking her tea by the fire-light. In one respect, at any 
rate, she was unchanged; she had not yet picked up the 
society slang with which Bertie’s, ears were familiar; she 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


161 


knew nothing of the absorbing topics which he was accus- 
tomed to hear discussed over the rims of tea-cups; and so 
their conversation was chiefly about local matters. Bertie 
had been quartered at Windsor before, and knew the neigh- 
borhood well. He stated that it was not so bad, if you 
didn’t expect too much of it. There were the queen’s 
hounds, and there was a fair amount of shooting, and every 
now and then somebody gave a ball. 

“ Do you mind driving ever so many miles for a dance, 
Mrs. Herbert?” he asked. “ Shall you go in for these en- 
tertainments? I will if you will.” 

“ That is a powerful inducement,” answered Hope. “ I 
dare say I shall go to some of them, if Dick will take me. 
But I am afraid balls are a great bore to him.” 

“ He might be left at home,” observed Bertie. “ That 
is I suppose he might. What do you do with yourself all 
day here? Write letters, and fee(f the chickens, and go 
out for a drive in the afternoon? Or do you still keep up 
your painting?” 

“ You have hit off my manner of life exactly,” Hope re- 
plied. “ Ho; I haven’t begun to paint again yet. I am 
rather discouraged by the presence of an artist in the house. 
Did you ever hear of a Mr. Jacob Stiles, who was adopted 
and educated by Dick, and who lives here?” 

Captain Cunningham couldn’t say that he ever had. 

“I will introduce you to him some day,” said Hope. 
And then she related the circumstances under which her 
•own introduction to Jacob had been effected. 

“ The luck that some people have!” ejaculated Bertie. 
<e Why wasn’t I on the spot to cast myself into the water, 
instead of the chap with the aristocratic name!” 

“ You would have spoiled your clothes, and I know that 
would have been a grief to you; whereas the chap with the 
aristocratic name never gave a thought to his.” 

“ What an unkind thing to say! — and so utterly false 
too. Do you often favor your husband with speeches of 
that sort?” 

“ My husband has a soul far above clothes, and I never 
say disagreeable things to him, because he never boasts of 
the wonders that he would have performed if he had only 
had the opportunity. Used he not to be rather a friend of 
yours? I wish you would stay and dine, and then you 
would see him. ” 


162 


a bachelor's, blunder. 


But Cunningham shook his head. “ I wish I could; but,, 
you see, I shouldn't be able to dress. Now you needn't 
laugh; no civilized being enjoys sitting down to dinner in 
a shooting-coat. I should like to meet Herbert, all the 
same. He might give a fellow a day's shooting." 

“ I have no doubt that he would, if he knew that a fellow 
was within reach. I won't fail to let him know. " 

Thus they went on talking innocent sort of nonsense, and 
finding each other very pleasant company. At that time 
there was no thought of any such thing as love-making in 
the mind of either of them ; they were both young, and 
there was between them that freemasonry which, alas! can 
not co-exist with disparity of years. “ Crabbed age and 
youth can not live together." It maybe that a mutual 
understanding is somewhat difficult of attainment even be- 
tween middle-age and youth — between a man in the prime 
of life, like Dick Herbert, and such a young couple as were 
now warming themselves beside Dick Herbert's hearth. At 
any rate, both Hope and Bertie Cunningham stopped talk- 
ing nonsense when the master of the house strode into the 
room in gaiters and shooting-boots, having just returned 
from a long day's sport in the coverts of a neighbor. 

Not that there was anything chilling in Dick's reception 
of his visitor. He shook hands with the young Guardsman* 
said he was glad to see him (which thing he assuredly would 
not have said unless it had been true), and repeated with 
so much cordiality the invitation already given by his wife* 
that Bertie allowed his scruples to be overruled and con- 
sented to stay to dinner. 

Nevertheless, both during that repast and after it was 
over there was a certain feeling of restraint in the air. 
Three is proverbially an awkward number; moreover, Dick 
was not particularly fond of Bertie Cunningham, whom he 
looked upon as a rather poor specimen of the modem 
British warrior, and it was altogether beyond his power to 
conceal his likes and dislikes, although on this occasion he. 
took more trouble to do so than usual. He did not omit to 
ask the young man to come over and shoot on a specified 
day, and showed, perhaps, an even greater consideration 
for his comfort by leaving the drawing-room almost as soon 
as they had re-entered it, and only showing himself again 
just in time to say good-night. 

Hope was leaning against the mantelpiece and looking 


A bachelor's blunder. 


163 


down at the fire, with a smile upon her face, when her hus- 
band came back, after seeing his guest ride away. 44 Isn't 
he nicer" she said. 

44 He is a very good fellow," answered Dick. 

As this was what Dick said about every man in whom he 
could find nothing special to commend, the compliment 
was not a very high one; but, such as it was, Hope did not 
cavil at it. 

44 I liked him much better to-day than I ever did be- 
fore," she went on. 44 He is such a cheery, pleasant boy. " 

“ Well," said Dick, 44 he isn't exactly a boy, you know. 
He wasn't born yesterday, in spite of his smooth face." 

44 Oh, but he is quite young in all his ways and ideas!" 

Dick, happening to hold a different opinion, did not give 
utterance to it, but said: 44 He will help us keep alive, I 
dare say. I am glad he is within reach, as you like him." 

Hope was glad too; but she would have been a little less 
glad if she could have foreseen one consequence of the re- 
moval of Captain Cunningham's battalion from London to 
Windsor. She did not, however, trace any connection be- 
tween cause and effect when she heard that Carry Herbert 
had abandoned the greater part of her intended visits and 
proposed to return to Farndon forthwith; only she felt a 
little annoyed that the sole intimation of this change of 
plans. should have reached her through the servants. That 
Carry should make herself at home was all very well; but 
surely a few lines might have been addressed to the nominal 
mistress ^of the house. 

Nothing is more irritating than a flea-bite. You must 
not complain of such things; you must not even (if you are 
in polite society) relieve your sufferings in the natural way; 
and that makes it extremely hard to bear. Hope received 
her sister-in-law with the utmost amiability; she was deter- 
mined not to show that she was in the least vexed by the 
latter's lack of ceremony; but she was unable to forget it, 
and, what was worse, she strongly suspected that it had not 
been accidental. 

And indeed it was not long before Carry chose to take 
what anybody must have considered a liberty. Captain 
Cunningham's second visit to Farndon was paid a few days 
after her return, and as soon as he was shown into the room 
where the two ladies were sitting, she monopolized him in. 
a manner which Hope did not altogether like, and which 


164 


a bachelor's blunder. 


he himself evidently did not like at all. She seated herself 
close to him; she talked in a low voice; she made allusions 
quite unintelligible to a third person, and, .in short, be- 
haved in such a fashion that the third person began to 
wonder whether she had not better quit the scene. But 
this, though not in the best taste, was pardonable. What 
went very near to exhausting Hope's patience was to hear 
Carry coolly saying to their visitor: 44 Why don't you come 
over and stay a few days with us? You can get leave, I 
suppose. Come next week; the hounds are to meet close 
to us on Wednesday, and if you haven't anything to ride. 
I'll put up on one of mine." 

It was a fortunate thing that Hope could not at the mo- 
ment think of any method of administering the snub which 
this speech undoubtedly deserved; for it was not prudence 
that kept her silent. Bertie Cunningham undertook her 
revenge. 

“ Don't you think," he said mildly, “ that it might be 
as well to wait until I am asked?" 

“ Am I not asking you?" returned Carry, laughing. 
But she winced all the same, and Hope recovered her 
temper. 

“ Please come, if you can manage it. Captain Cunning- 
ham," said she. “ You know how glad we shall be to see 
you." 

An invitation given under such obvious pressure of cir- 
cumstances could not be accepted without a little decent 
hesitancy; but Bertie did not protest to any wearisome 
length, because experience had taught him to believe that 
he was always welcome everywhere. Besides, he thought 
he would greatly enjoy a few days at Farndon Court — which 
was even more to the purpose. To deny himself enjoy- 
ment, or the prospect of it, was what he had never done in 
all his life, and he had no notion of embarking upon a 
career of self-sacrifice now, although his eyes were sharp 
enough to discern breakers ahead. He could not devote his 
attention exclusively to Miss Herbert throughout his stay, 
or where would the enjoyment be? Yet he knew full well 
that if he devoted his attention to anybody else, trouble 
would only too probably come of it. With as much physi- 
cal courage as any ordinary person can require, he was sad- 
ly deficient in the moral variety of that attribute; and 
although he no longer (except every now and then, in a 


A bachelor’s blunder. 165 

moment of despondency) thought of marrying Miss Her- 
bert, he was mortally afraid of angering her. The state of 
her feelings was hardly a secret to him; of her liability to* 
tits of unreasonable jealousy he had more than once Had. 
painful and convincing proof; finally, he perceived that 
she was not prepossessed in her sister-in-law’s favor. 

These considerations made him heartily wish that Cany 
would go aw T ay again; but did not deter him from reappear- 
ing at Parndon on the following Tuesday in a dog-cart with, 
his portmanteau between his feet, a bright smile upon his 
lips, and his heart filled with trust in Providence. 

“ Are you coming out hunting to-morrow?” he asked 
Hope in the course of the evening, having craftily entreated 
Miss Herbert to “ play something,” and shown his grati- 
tude - for her compliance by at once turning his back upon 
her and escaping to the other end of the room. 

“ I don’t know,” answered Hope, hesitating between 
doubt of her capacity and a natural disinclination to be left 
behind. “ I should be very much in the way, I’m afraid. 
My father used to take me out in old days; but I can’t say 
that I have ever really hunted. And these hounds go at a 
terrific pace, don’t they?” 

“ Oh, sometimes; but what does that matter, so long as 
you are decently mounted? I’ll look after you,” added 
Bertie, reassuringly. 

“ Indeed you’ll do nothing of the sort; you must look 
after Carry. ” 

“ Look after Miss Herbert! It’s lucky she is making, 
such a row with the piano that she can’t hear you. If she 
hasn’t learned how to take care of herself by this time, she 
never will learn. ” 

“If I go, I shall take care of myself, too,” observed 
Hope. She raised her voice slightly and said: “ Hick, da 
you think I might hunt with you to-morrow?” 

Hick looked up from the evening paper with a rather 
dubious countenance, but he answered: “ Oh, certainly, if 
you wish. I would have suggested it, only I didn’t think 
you cared about coming. You shall ride the Parson. He 
won’t bring you to grief, if you leave him alone; you’ll 
have nothing to bother yourself about, except sticking on 
his back.” 

“ I think I can manage that much,” said Hope, the least 
bit nettled by the implied want of confidence in her seat. 


166 


a bachelor's blunder. 


* 4 Only please let it be understood that I am to be left alone 
quite as much as the Parson. I don't want to spoil any- 
body's sport. " 

44 That is of course," answered Dick, smiling; 44 it is a 
fundamental maxim with hunting ladies that they are to be 
treated for the time being as men. Isn't that so. Carry?" 

Miss Herbert, who hac| hurried through the conclusion of 
a brilliant fantasia, and was not best pleased with the inat- 
tention of her audience, replied: 44 Women who don't know 
what they are about have no business in the hunting-field. 
Are you a novice?" she asked, turning abruptly to Hope. 

“I must confess that I am," Hope answered; 44 but 
everything must have a beginning. I suppose there was a 
time when even you did not know a great deal about hunt- 
mg.” 

44 1 suppose so," Miss Herbert responded, dryly; 44 but if 
there was, I don't remember it. I can not have been much 
more than six years old when I was in the condition of 
ignorance that you describe." 

44 Ho wonder you have forgotten it, then!" ejaculated 
Bertie. 

- He knew he ought not to say this, but he couldn't stop 
himself; and Miss Herbert's dark eyes, flashing angry notes 
■of interrogation, rested upon a countenance of such child- 
like simplicity, that she persuaded herself — not by any 
means for the first time in her experience of Bertie Cun- 
ningham — that he had wounded her unintentionally. 

How after the foregoing fragment of dialogue, every one 
must perceive that it was a matter of pure necessity for 
Hope to ride straight to hounds on the following morning, 
even though she should risk her neck in the attempt; and 
this she was steadfastly resolved to do. When she was 
shown her mount — a rather small, but powerful, black 
horse, with whose shape it would have been difficult to find 
any fault, and whose mild brown eyes gave Evidence of a 
tractable disposition — she saw that the best had been done 
for her that could be done; and before she had ridden him 
a couple of hundred yards she felt her confidence rising, 
together with that spirit of emulation without which very 
few things worth speaking of would have been accomplished 
in the history of the human race. Dick, mounted on a 
.gigantic flea-bitten gray, who was very fresh and too free 
with his heels to be a pleasant neighbor, appeared to have 


A bachelor's blunder. 


1 67 


the prospect of some fine, healthy exercise before him; 
Carry's chestnut, though taking to the eye, looked as if he 
would require a good deal of riding;, while to Bertie Cun- 
ningham had been awarded another chestnut, equally hand- 
some, which had been acquired by Miss Herbert at a mod- 
erate figure, in consideration of the abominable temper 
which he had often displayed. 44 I hate a quiet horse," she 
was wont to say, just as certain yachtsmen will declare that 
they love rough seas. However, one seldom hears that 
preference expressed by sailors. 

44 You have got the pick of the bunch, Mrs. Herbert," 
remarked Bertie, after the brute that he was riding had 
nearly bucked him out of the saddle; and Hope was quite 
of the same opinion. 

The meet was so near that it had not been thought worth 
while to send the horses on ; and as our party had been a 
little late in starting, they had but a short time to wait 
after their appearance upon the scene. The scene itself 
rather took Hope's breath away. Never in her previous 
small experience of hunting had she seen anything like so 
vast a concourse, and while Hick was introducing her to 
some of his acquaintances, she was inwardly wondering how' 
in the world all those horsemen and horsewomen would 
contrive to get away. 

44 It will be worse than dancing in a London ball room," 
she thought. 

But somehow or other — Hope could not have said how— 
they did get away; and having no notion what line to take, 
she presently found herself one of a crowd which was gal- 
loping down a narrow lane, headed by Hick. To follow 
Hick seemed to be quite the wisest course. No doubt he 
knew what he was about, and, as he was not piloting her, 
it could not be on her account that he had stuck to the 
road, instead of flying over a hedge’ and disappearing, as 
Carry and Bertie, together with a considerable number of 
others, had done. Hick did not stick to the road long. 
Suddenly Hope saw him wheel to the right, through what 
appeared to he an open gate, with the whole division after 
him, helter-skelter, and then came a stretch of grass and a 
little more elbow-room. This was very delightful. The 
Parson was going with long, easy strides; the hounds were 
visible on a hill-side ^ot so far ahead, and it was only when 
Hope noticed a s' ' Dick's pace that she saw what 


168 


A bachelor's blunder. 


she might have seen a little sooner, in the shape of a fence 
■of truly appalling dimensions between the hounds and her. 

“ Good gracious !'" she muttered under her breath. 
* c Surely he isn't going to jump that! If he does we must 
—that is certain. " And she hardly knew whether to be 
Telieved or disappointed when it became evident that he 
was not going to jump it. 

He held up his hand, calling out: “ Hold' hard! there's 
a gate, " and then she saw the field making tumultuously ■ 
for a point some little distance to her right. But the gate 
proved obdurate. There was no unfastening it, and many 
precious minutes were wasted before it could be lifted off 
its hinges. Through such a throng of horsemen, each 
(with one noble exception) bent upon forwarding his own 
interests at the expense of those of his neighbors, it was no 
•easy matter for a lady to force a passage, and Hope did not 
attempt it, but allowed the crowd to pass her, trusting to 
make up for lost time later on. This was too much, even 
for the equable temper of the Parson, who began to fidget 
and snatch at his bit, while Dick's gray plunged, reared, 
and ended by becoming very nearly unmanageable. 

“ Stay where you are," shouted his rider, as he turned 
and galloped back out of the press; “ I'll wait for you on 
the other side. " (He was piloting her, then. ) And there- 
upon he charged the fence and cleared it like a bird. 

Many a sad catastrophe has been brought about through 
lack of that unquestioning obedience to instructions which 
has gone clean out of fashion in these days, when everybody 
knows as much as everybody else, if not more. With the 
spirit of the age strong upon her, Hope said to herself that 
what one horse had done another could do, an assumption 
of which the inconsequence had to be, and speedily was, 
brought home to her. It maylbe that a more experienced 
rider would have taken the Parson safely over that fence; 
and, as a matter of fact, he did get over, or rather through 
It; but it was only to land on his head and deliver Hope 
with considerable viofence on hers. After a few seconds 
of bewilderment, she realized that she had had a fall, and, 
raising her eyes, became aware of Dick, who, from the 
back of his plunging gray, called out, rather unsympathiz- 
Ingly as she thought: “ Get up!" 

She staggered to her feet, and h« - ' 
bit." 


“ Now walk on a 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


169: 

‘This order also she contrived to obey, all self-assertion 
having been knocked out of her, and after she had taken a 
few steps, Dick remarked quietly: 44 You’re all right, I 
see; I thought you might have had a slight concussion of 
the brain. Drink some of this,” he added, tossing his 
flask to her, 44 and sit down on that bank till I come back. 
I must try and find somebody to hold this brute for me; 
the Parson won’t run away.” 

Hope, feeling a little faint and dizzy, did as she was told, 
and a few mouthfuls of sherry revived her. The Parson, 
who had scrambled on to his legs immediately after his fall 
and was placidly surveying her from a short distance, with 
his neck stretched out and his ears cocked, responded to 
her invitation to draw nearer, and allowed her to stroke 
his nose. The expression of his countenance seemed to 
imply that he sincerely regretted the disaster, but could not 
feel that he had been altogether responsible for it. While 
Hope was anxiously examining his fore-legs Dick returned 
on foot, having left his horse in charge of a laborer, and 
asked: 44 How are you now? Better?” 

44 1 am not a bit the worse, thank you,” answered Hope;. 
44 only dreadfully ashamed. I suppose I behaved like a 
perfect idiot, didn’t I?” 

44 You behaved very pluckily,” answered Dick, smiling; 
44 but it was asking a little too much of the old horse. I 
ought to have warned you that he isn’t quite what he once 
was.” , 

44 Oh, it wasn’t his fault,” said Hope despondently; 44 1 
feel sure that I was the one to blame : though what I did 
or left undone I have no idea. Is he hurt, do you think?” 

44 Hot he! he thinks nothing of a little spill like that — 
do you, old boy? You gave me a rare fright, though, I 
can tell you. However, all’s well that ends well.” 

44 But it hasn’t ended well at all!” exclaimed Hope, with 
tears in heV eyes. 44 1 have spoiled your run, though you 
promised to leave me to myself. Won’t you go on now 
and let me find my own way home?” 

44 1 don’t remember making any promises; and if I did, 
it’s lucky 1 broke them, for you couldn’t very well have 
remounted without help. As for the hounds, they are 
miles away by this time; so, if you feel fit to ride now, 
we’ll jog quietly home together.” 

44 1* suppose there is nothing else for it,” said Hope with 


170 


a bachelor's blunder. 


a sigh. “ One thing is that you won't be victimized in 
this way a second time, for I am never going to hunt 
again." 

“ Why? Because you have had a cropper?" 

“ JSTo; but I agree with Carry; the hunting-field isn't the 
proper place for a woman who can't take care of herself. " 

“ Shall I let you into a secret?" whispered Dick. “ You 
mustn't tell anybody I said so, because it's a perfectly out- 
rageous opinion to hold; but, strictly between ourselves, I 
don't think the hunting-field is the proper place for a 
woman at all. " 


CHAPTER XX. 

BERTIE IS LECTURED. 

As Hope rode dejectedly homeward by her husband's 
side, she felt that she ought to make him some apology for 
having deprived him of a day's amusement: but then she 
recollected the callousness that he had displayed ' while she 
was lying prone at his feet, and it struck her if there was 
to be any apologizing, it might as well come from him as 
from her in the first instance. 

So she began: “ You said just now that I had given you 
a fright." 

“ So you did," answered Hick, struggling to get a cigar 
lighted, in spite of the curvetings of his gallant gray. 

“ You did not look much frightened," observed Hope, 
reproachfully. 

“ It' wouldn't have done you any good if I had had a fit 
of hysterics, would it?" 

“No; but it would have been decent to turn pale and 
gasp, instead of shouting “ Get up!" at me, as^if I were a 
horse or a dog. " 

Dick laughed. “ When people come to grief you should 
always make them stand up, if they can," he said. “ Then 
you find out whether there is anything really amiss with 
them. " 

“ Well," sighed Hope, “ I suppose I ought to be thank- 
ful that I have escaped with nothing worse than a crushed 
hat and a muddy face; but it is Very humiliating. I think 
I shall go to bed as soon as I get home. Never shall I have 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 171 

the courage to sit down to dinner with Carry after this! I 
can see her face of contempt already.” 

Dick edged a little nearer to his wife and bent forward, 
by which means he was able to discern tears upon her eye- 
lashes. “ My dearest .girl/* he said kindly, “is it worth 
while to vex yourself about what a spiteful woman may say 
or do?” 

Now this was a really remarkable speech: for, in the first 
place, Dick seldom made use of any endearing epithet in 
addressing his wife;, and, in the second, it was altogether 
unlike him to speak a word against an absent person. At 
the risk of lowering Hope in the reader’s esteem, it must 
be confessed that the latter half of his sentence pleased her 
even more than the former. 

You do think her spiteful, then?” she said, glancing 
eagerly at him. 

“Why, of course I do. I don’t mind saying so, for 
once, since we are alone; but, if it’s the same to you, we 
won’t say so oftener than we can help in future. It’s 
always a mistake to look on the dark side of things or peo- 
ple; and, after all, poor Carry has her good points.” 

“ I don’t doubt it; but what are they? I only ask for 
the sake of information.” 

“ Well, she is straightforward, I think, and she is a good 
friend. ” 

“ And a bitter enemy. It is no use, Dick; I have tried 
to like her: but she has evidently made up her mind never 
to be a friend of mine, and I confidently expect the day to 
come when she will be straightforward enough to tell me 
so.” 

“ I trust she won’t have such bad manners; but there’s 
no denying that her manners are not always up to the 
mark. You see, she is my sister; I can’t very well turn 
her out of house and home. ’ ’ 

“ Of course you can’t! How could you suppose that I 
meant to suggest such a thing?” 

“ I didn’t suppose so; I was only wishing that it could 
be (done. However,” continued Dick more cheerfully, 
“ there’s a chance of her going of her own free will, I 
fancy. Did it ever occur to you that there was anything 
between her and Cunningham?” 

“ Never! I can’t imagine two people less suited to each 


172 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


other,” answered Hope, with" a vehemence which rather 
surprised her questioner. 

“I shouldn’t have, said that,” he remarked musingly. 
44 She is a year or two older than Cunningham, it is true; 
but they have always seemed to me to pull uncommonly 
well together. And then, you know, she is very comfort- 
ably off.” 

44 Oh, I see; you set Captain Cunningham down as a 
lor tune-hun ter. ” 

“We needn’t call him names,” said Dick. 44 When a 
man is hard up, he naturally prefers a rich wife to a pen- 
niless one.” 

44 Even if she is years older than himself and spiteful into 
the bargain?” asked Hope. But as soon as she had said 
this her conscience rebuked her and she exclaimed: 44 How 
Ill-natured I am — quite as bad as she is! Why do you let 
me speak like that about your sister?” 

44 I don’t mind,” answered Dick, with his quiet, good- 
humored smile. 

CC -T\ •-! n • -T* T ni • T TT 1 'l S* 



house on fire?” 

44 I’d rather you didn’t,” Dick confessed. He added, 
after riding on in silence for some minutes: 44 I know I’m 
a phlegmatic sort of fellow. The fact is I am constitution- 
ally lazy; things don’t often worry me, and when they do, 
I mostly hold my tongue about them. But I’ll tell you 
what would ' worry me a great deal, and that would be to 
think that you were not happy at Earndon. Carry is a 
painful necessity for the present; there is nothing for it but 
to bear with her. Candidly speaking, Cunningham isn’t 
exactly the husband I should have chosen for her; but if 
she likes him and if they choose to marry, I shall be very 
glad — principally on your account.” 

4 4 Thank you, ” said Hope, briefly. 

Dick scrutinized her for a moment and then said : 4 *' I 
wish, though, that you would tell me whether there is any- 
thing else that I can do to make life pleasanter for you. 
Eor instance, would you like me to go away for a week or 
two?” 

The proposition was made in such evident good faith that 
Hope burst out laughing. 44 ISTo,” she answered, 4 4 great 
as the relief of that would be, I shouldn’t feel justified in 


A bachelor's blunder. 173 

asking for it just yet. Carry has already been kind enough 
to warn me that you would probably absent yourself very 
often; but she has not the humble opinion of "you that you 
have of yourself. 1 believe she actually imagined that I 
should miss you." 

To this Dick made no rejoinder; nor did he open his lips 
again until the ride was at an end. 

Hope did not carry out her threat of retiring to bed as 
soon as she reached home. She reflected that, even if she 
did so, she would have to get up again some time or other 
and face whatever trials might be in store for her; so she 
came down to dinner as usual, and was agreeably surprised 
to find that her mishap (of which Dick had given his own 
account) was considered a subject rather for condolence 
than for sneers. 

It is needless to say that Captain Cunningham and Miss 
Herbert had enjoyed the very best run on record, and 
equally needless to add that they did not spare their hearers 
a single incident of it. There are circumstances under 
which even the most forbearing of mortals can not help 
triumphing a little over their less fortunate friends, and 
whatever may have been the good points that Dick had dis- 
covered in his sister's character, he would hardly have vent- 
ured to name forbearance as one of them. From making 
disagreeable speeches to Hope she did, however, forbear 
(for she was in an excellent humor); and the latter, not 
being called upon to undertake her own defense, was able 
to watch Bertie Cunningham, in whose proceedings the 
few words that had fallen from Dick caused her to take a 
new and lively interest. 

Certain it was that the young man was very attentive to 
the heiress that evening; and if some degree of reluctance 
was visible in his attentions, that only made them and him 
the more contemptible. Hope's opinion of Captain Cun- 
ningham, which, after so many fluctuations, had lately 
been rising rapidly, began once more to sink to a low ebb. 
Also she felt very angry with him, and did not stop to ask 
herself why she should be angry with a man who was only 
behaving like the majority of his neighbors, and whose con- 
duct, after all, was r d particular concern of hers. 

A woman is never wise to be angry with a man for pay- 
ing attention to another member of her sex; but she is still 
less wise if she lets him see that she is angry. It was this 


174 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


error in judgment which Hope now thought fit to commit. 
Captain Cunningham remained day after day at Farndon, 
giving no hint of intended departure; day after day his 
hostess treated him with marked coolness, keeping out of 
his way as much as might be; and although — or perhaps 
because — he guessed what had brought about this change 
in her demeanor, he felt it quite essential to his comfort 
that he should ask her the reason of it. So, one afternoon 
when Carry had driven over to Windsor to do shopping, 
Hope encountered him in the park, looking grave and cast 
down, and was obliged to accede to his request that he 
might be permitted to walk home with her. 

“It is very kind of you to put up with this infliction, 
Mrs. Herbert,” he said, humbly; “for I know you would 
rather have my room than my company.’’ 

“ Not at all, I assure you,” answered Hope, with per- 
functory politeness. 

“ One understands what that means. I wish you would 
tell me how I have offended you.” 

“ Really, Captain Cunningham, you have not offended 
me in any way. How could you, when we have hardly ex- 
changed a dozen words since you came:” 

“That is what I can’t make out; but I am certain of 
the fact. If I haven’t said anything Wrong, I must have 
done something.” 

“ Your conscience seems to be uneasy.” 

• “So my friend Mrs. Pierpoint is always telling me. You 
are something like her.” 

“ I suppose that is a great compliment to me, is it not?” 

“ You don’t know her, or you wouldn’t speak in that 
sarcastic tone,” the young man answered, warmly. “I 
am not sure that she is quite in your style, perhaps she 
isn’t; but there never breathed a kinder woman or a better 
friend. She has been a sort of mother to me, and I should 
think I was paying anybody a compliment by comparing 
her to Mrs. Pierpoint. However, I didn’t mean to say 
that you resembled her particularly; only that you remind- 
ed me of her for a moment. She has a way of looking dis- 
pleased with me, and when I ask her what is the matter, 
she says, as you did just now, that I h^veabad conscience . 39 

“ I dare say she is quite right,” remarked Hope, her 
countenance relaxing into a smile — for, after the unkind 
things that had been said about Mrs. Pierpoint in her hear- 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


175 


ing, it was satisfactory to find that that lady had been “ a 
sort of mother ” to Captain Cunningham. “ And what 
are the offenses of which your conscience ought to accuse 
you, according to her?” 

“ Oh, it’s always the same thing. She has made up her 
mind that I am to marry somebody with money. There is 
no doubt at all about my being driven to that sooner or v 
later; only she wants it to be soon, whereas I should like it 
to be as late as possible. And so we differ.” 

“ Mrs. Pierpoint can not be a real friend of yours if she 
nrges you to marry for money,” said Hope, severely. But 
the look of mingled astonishment and amusement which 
her companion turned upon her, caused her to color and 
descend with some abruptness from that high critical level. 
“Of course, ” she added, “many peojffe do marry for 
money; but it is hardly friendly to advise them to do so.” 

“ Well, I don't know,” said Bertie, slowly, “ one either 
marries for love or in order to gain something. Does it 
matter so much whether that something is money, or a 
home, or a protector, or position?” 

Hope did not enjoy being arraigned by implication in 
this way; but she had her defense ready. “ In cases of that 
kind it is quite impossible to judge for another person,” 
she answered; ‘‘but I think there are distinctions. One 
may marry without love, and yet have a very sincere liking 
and respect and admiration for one's husband — or wife.” 

“ Quite so. And why shouldn't I have all three for the 
lady whom Mrs. Pierpoint wishes me to lead to the altar?” 

* e How can I tell when I do not know who she is?” 

“ Oh, if you don't know who it is! However, I will 
confess that I have no special respect or admiration for her; 

I like her well enough when she doesn't bully me. The 
fact is, Mrs. Herbert, that a man in my position can't pick 
and choose. He may, perhaps, have seen just one woman 
in his life whom he would have married, if she would have 
had him, and if he had been an elder instead of a younger 
son, and if, etc., etc. But, things being as they are with 
him, he must put up with what he can get.” 

“ That sounds as if 6 what he can get ' had a pleasant 
prospect before her. At any rate, she ought not to be de- 
ceived; that much is certain, whatever else may be doubt- 
ful. You have no right to try and persuade a woman that 
you care for her, when it is only her money that you want.” 


176 


•4 

A bachelor's blunder. 


“ Now, Mrs, Herbert, you know very well that no woman 
is ever really deceived in that way, unless she chooses to de- 
ceive herself. I am not more fond of humbug than other 
people; but it does seem to me that just a little bit of hum- 
bug is inevitable. You wouldn't wish me to go to Miss — 
shall we call her Miss Jones? — and say, ‘ Upon the whole, 
you are rather abhorrent to me; but I have an idea that 
you are willing to become my wife; and as you are rich 
enough to keep us both in comfort, I shall be prepared to> 
make you Mrs. Cunningham as soon as you like.' " 

1 ‘ Yes, I should," Hope declared. “If those are your 
real feelings, I think you ought to express them — or else 
not propose at all. " 

“You make my blood run cold!" exclaimed Bertie. 
“ All things considered, perhaps I won't propose at all. I 
wonder whether you would expect the same dreadful can- 
dor from a woman as you do from a man. " 

The worst of this style of discussion by innuendo is that 
it is sure eventually to reach a point at which the argu- 
mentum ad hominem will be employed in such a manner as 
to be no longer capable of being ignored. Hope felt that 
this moment was fast approaching, and was therefore very 
glad when a sudden turn in the path along which she and 
her. companion were walking brought them face to face 
with Jacob Stiles, who had come out for a stroll in the 
gloaming, as his owl-like habit was. Jacob started, bowed, 
and made as though he would have passed on; but Hope in- 
tercepted him. 

“Good-evening, Mr. Stiles," she said; “I have been 
wondering when I was to see you again. You have been 
very busy, I suppose. " 

“ Yes," answered Jacob, in his slow, hesitating w r ay. 
“ At least, not very; but I have always work to do." He 
added timidly: “ I was sorry to hear that you lost your run 
the other day. Perhaps Mr. Herbert would allow me to 
break in a mare for you that he has in the stable. She is 
hardly up to his weight; but she is very well bred, and 
would carry a lady beautifully." 

“ You are very kind," said Hope; “ but after my exhi- 
bition the other day, I 1 ^ 



hunting. What do 


Might I give myself one more chance? I don't know 
whether you liaye been introduced to Mr. Stiles." 


A bachelor's blunder. 177 

Captain Cunningham had not had that pleasure; but he - 
had been told about Jacob by Miss Herbert, and was so 
good as to say that if anybody knew how to school a hunter 
he believed that Mr. Stiles did. He was very polite to the 
artist during the few minutes of conversation that followed 
— too polite, as that oversensitive young man felt. Hope 
had treated him as an equal, thereby earning his adoration; 
Captain Cunningham, with the best intentions, let him see 
that they did not belong to the same class. Jacob was for- 
ever tormenting himself in this way and detecting slights 
which nobody meant to inflict upon him. From living so 
much alone, and so seldom speaking or being spoken to, he- 
had learned to take men's measures by other methods than 
those which are in common use; and as he had a natural 
aptitude for the study of humanity, it often happened to 
him to ground accurate conclusions upon some trine which 
would have escaped the notice of nine people out of ten. 

He jumped to a conclusion, and a somewhat startling 
one, now; for when Hope and her companion proceeded on 
their way toward the house, leaving him in the falling dark- 
ness, he muttered: “That is the man then! I thought 
there must be somebody, and her eyes brightened every 
time that she spoke to him. It is a pity; although he 
would not have been good enough for her. But, then, who 
is good enough for her? Certainly not her husband, who 
will never trouble himself to discover whether she is happy 
or not. That man takes everything as a right. The world 
has always gone well with him, and he can't understand 
w T hat other folks find to grumble at in it, or why anybody 
should ever be tempted to stray off the straight course. ' I 
suppose it never occurred to him that Jacob Stiles in his 
shoes would have been quite as respectable a member of so- 
ciety as he is. " 


CHAPTER XXI. 

JACOB DECLINES TO STRUT. 

It is difficult for one who is perpetually smarting under 
a sense of injustice to be just in his judgments upon his fel- 
lows, and Jacob had undoubtedly been too severe in assum- 
ing that Dick Herbert neither knew nor cared whether his 


178 


a bachelor^ blunder. 


wife were happy or not. This, as it happened, was a ques- 
tion to which Dick had devoted a good deal of thought; and 
truly concerned was he at being compelled to answer it in 
the negative. Dor Hope had lately reverted in some meas- 
ure to that irritable and capricious humor which he had 
borne with so much equanimity during the time of their 
betrothal. She turned upon him, every now and then, 
with some sharp little sarcastic speech which he had done 
nothing to provoke, and her subsequent repentance for such 
behavior was no security against a speedy repetition of it. 
This puzzled Dick, who had all his life been able to deal 
satisfactorily with every variety of male character that he 
had come across, but had small experience of the other sex. 
When a man was snappish and out of sorts he simply left 
him alone, which was, of course, the only rational thing to 
do, and by dinner-time, or at latest by the following morn- 
ing, it was all right again. But, somehow or other, this 
mode of treatment did not seem to answer with Hope, and 
he could only suppose that the dose was not strong enough 
to be effectual. Of men he knew as much as most people, 
and of horses, dogs, and other animals a great deal more; 
but his estimate of women was based chiefly upon hearsay; 
and having always been given to understand that in the 
hours of ease they are uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
he bore Hope no ill-will for being subject to a natural law, 
and was ready to believe that she would display all the 
qualities of a ministering angel, should an occasion with 
which he was not eager to provide her arise to call for 
them. 

However, he thought he had better remove himself out 
of her sight for the time being; so he made arrangements 
to spend a week or two, shooting, at the houses of different 
friends, and said nothing about them until they were com- 
pleted. November was then drawing toward a close; a few 
frosty nights had brought the leaves down in thousands 
from the trees, and since Dick had not yet shot his best 
coverts, it seemed unnecessary that he should go further 
afield in search of sport. This was what Hope pointed out 
to him when he announced his projected departure; but he 
answered that the Farndon coverts would doubtless be done 
justice to by Cunningham, who was still in the house, and 
by the brother officers whom he would, of course, ask over 
from Windsor. 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 179 

44 But surely they will think it rather odd that you should 
not he here/' objected Hope. 

44 I expect they won't grumble much, so long as there 
are plenty of pheasants/' said Dick cheerfully; 44 and you 
and Carry can do the honors." 

44 Don't you think/' suggested Hope, after remaining 
silent for awhile, 44 that Captain Cunningham has been 
rather a long time here? I wonder it does not strike him 
that he ought to give some one else a treat. " 

Dick raised his eyebrows. 44 Why, I thought you and 
Cunningham hit it off so well," he remarked. 

44 Why should you be so anxious to go away?" Hope 
asked, suddenly changing her ground. 

Dick was very yearly answering: 44 Because I am sure 
that you will be glad to get rid of me;" but he thought bet- 
ter of it and only observed: 44 One can't always stick in the 
same place. " 

44 Do you really want to go?" Hope persisted. 

To this her husband made no reply, because as a matter 
of fact he did not want to go; and she, drawing a little 
nearer to him, laid her hand timidiy on his arm and said: 
44 1 wish you would stay, Dick!" 

Dick remained silent, frowning and smiling at the same 
moment, and wondering whether it was the part of a wise 
man to yield to feminine caprices; but he ended by saying: 
44 1 may as well keep to my plan, I think. I don't like 
throwing people over, after accepting their invitations, and 
you can all get on pretty well without me, I fancy." 

If he expected to be further entreated, he met with the 
disappointment that he deserved ; for Hope at once turned 
away, remarking coldly: 44 Very likely you are right. You 
will be back before Christmas, I suppose?' ' 

To which he replied: 44 Oh, certainly, before then." 
And nothing more was said about the matter. 

To make a hesitating request and meet with an unhesi- 
tating rebuff is always a disagreeable experience, and what 
rendered it the more so in the present instance was that, 
upon further reflection, Hope really did not know why she 
should have pressed her husband to remain at home against 
his will. She had not seen so much of him since their ar- 
rival at Farndon as to feel lonely without him; and indeed 
the only trial that his absence was likely to bring upon her 
was that Carry would be certain to say: 44 1 told you so!" 


180 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


Carry, however, was too magnanimous, or too indifferent, 
or too busy with her own affairs to indulge in that cheap 
triumph, and after Dick had gone away things went on 
very much as before. The neighbors continued to call ; 
Captain Cunningham and Miss Herbert continued to ride 
about the country together; and one or two large shooting- 
parties took place, which Hope did not feel called upon to 
grace with her presence. She might, perhaps, have found 
the time hang rather heavily upon her hands, had it not 
been for Jacob Stiles, whose task of educating the bay mare 
was soon completed, and who, at Hope’s request, accom- 
panied her the first time that she made trial of her new 
acquisition. He was evidently so gratified at being asked 
that she repeated her invitation a second and a third time; 
thereby scandalizing the head coachman, who, however, 
was old and discreet, and kept his opinions to himself. 

Jacob on horseback was not quite the same person as 
Jacob on foot. That aspect, as of a beaten hound, which 
prejudiced so many strangers against him, disappeared at 
such times, and he became a well-knit and not ill-looking 
youth, whose perfect seat and light hand no observer could 
fail to admire. His manner, too, gained something in con- 
fidence, and although he was always reserved and respect- 
ful with Hope, he was able to speak to her with authority 
upon the management of horses, and also — which interested 
her more — upon that of the pencil and the brush. She 
spent a good many hours with Jacob, which were pleasant 
enough to her and blissful to him. He was in some sort a 
protege of her own, whom nobody else cared to notice; nor 
was she insensible to his devotion, although she hardly 
comprehended the extent of it. Moreover, she was filled 
with compassion for him, because his views of life were so 
dark. Hot that he was given to expatiating upon these; 
but every now and again a phrase would escape him which 
exhibited his quiet pessimism in a more striking light than 
could have been thrown upon it by any loud lamentation 
or railing. 

Hope did not attempt to comfort him. The heart 
knoweth its own bitterness, and she herself sometimes 
thought that existence was a doubtful sort of boon. She 
Was beginning to make a discovery which is seldom made' 
in youth and is always painful when so made; namely, that 
for the majority life must, at best, be a commonplace and 


A bachelor's blunder. 


181 


uneventful affair; also that nine tenths of the human race 
are neither sheep nor goats, but interesting mongrels. 
’This conclusion, though a little saddening and perplexing 
(because it is plain that, from the moment that you admit 
the fusion of good and evil, you have taken the first step 
into a labyrinth of the most abstruse speculation), had at 
any rate the good effect of making her more tolerant or 
mortal infirmities in general, and of those of a young 
Guardsman with insufficient means in particular. It was 
absurd to expect too much of Bertie Cunningham, or to 
quarrel with him because he had not set up lofty ideals for 
himself. His code, no doubt, was that of his class, and 
how should he have learned any other? She did not see 
much of him — indeed, she fancied that he purposely avoided 
her — but when they met he was always cheery and friendly. 
He referred once or twice, in a joking tone, to his possible 
marriage, and as often as he did so Hope expressed her 
fervent desire that the lady who had never been named 
between them might refuse him; but at the bottom of her 
heart she did not think he would be refused, because she 
saw no immediate prospect of his giving anybody the chance 
of refusing him. This, perhaps, may have helped her to be 
tolerant. 

After dinner, one evening, he informed her that Miss 
Herbert and he had been concocting a scheme for their 
own amusement, and the delectation of the neighborhood. 
“ It's subject to your approval, of course/ ' he added; 
"“but we were thinking that it would be rather a good 
thing to get up some theatricals. We could have the stage 
in the dining-room, and—" 

“ But I don't think we could very well do anything of 
that kind while Dick is away," interrupted Hope. 

“ Dick will come back. In fact he must come back, be- 
cause we shall want him to take a part. Besides, we can't 
possibly be ready until after Christmas. I shall have to 
leave you before then; but I can easily ride over from 
Windsor and rehearse. I need hardly say that you will be 
expected to act." 

“ I have never acted in my life," said Hope. 

“ That is of no consequence. I have, lots of times, and 
I'll coach you. How, about the piece. Miss Herbert and 
I haven't made up our minds about that yet; but I have a 
fancy for ‘ She Stoops to Conquer.' It isn't exactly a 


182 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


novelty; but I know it by heart, which is a great pull; and 
the dresses are pretty. Do you think it would do?” 

“ Oh, yes, I should think so,” answered Hope. 

But Carry, more prudently, said: “Let us hear what 
cast you propose to make.” 

“ Well, I should be Charles Marlow, because I know the 
part,” answered Bertie. “ Herbert could take old Hard- 
castle, and Bob West— you know Bob West, don’t you? — 
would be glad enough to do Hastings, I dare say; he isn’t 
particular. About Tony Lumpkin I can’t quite 
wa 


quite see my 


How do you mean to dis- 


Tony Lumpk 
ly. Can you think of anybody? 

“ I am not sure that I can. 
tribute the ladies’ parts?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. What should you say to Mrs. 
Herbert for Miss Hardcastle, and yourself for Mrs. Hard- 
castle?” asked Bertie, airily. 4 4 There ought to be no diffi- 
culty in finding a Constance Neville somewhere.” 

He must have been very well aware that this arrange- 
ment would not meet Carry’s views, or he would not have 
mentioned it in that off-hand manner. Seeing gathering 
clouds upon her brow, he proceeded to improve his position 
by adding: “ Grand part, Mrs. Hardcastle— in fact, I be- 
lieve it might easily be made the part of the piece by a 
really good actress, such as you are. ” 

“ So I should imagine ,’ 1 observed Carry, dryly. “ Your 
cast is admirable; the only improvement that I can suggest 
in it is that you should take Tony Lumpkin and give up 
young Marlow to Jacob Stiles.” 

“ Jacob Stiles?” repeated Bertie, looking puzzled. 
“Can he act?” 

“ As well as other people who have never acted before, I 
dare say; and if you offered him the part you would gratify 
Hope, who has already stooped to conquer him. The main 
thing in amateur theatricals is to please the performers.” 

“ I can answer for one performer who would not be 
pleased with the role of Miss Hardcastle,” said Hope, 
quietly. “ If I am to appear at all, it must be in some 
less ambitious character tnan that, and Constance Neville 
would do very well for me. You had better be Miss Hard- 
castle. As for Mr. Stiles, I am afraid we can hardly ask 
him to join us, since we don’t consider him worthy of sit- 
ting down to dinner in our company.” 

“ Mr. Stiles, as you call him, is not very likely to appre- 


a bachelor's blunder. 


183 


ciate such fine distinctions/' remarked Carry, who did not 
allow her wrath to be turned away by this soft answer, and 
who chose to vent it upon Hope rather than upon the real 
offender. “ However, I am not personally eager for his 
society, either on the stage or elsewhere. " 

“Oh, he's all right; artists are all right," interposed 
Bertie, perceiving that there was thunder in the air, and 
not wishing that his project should be strangled at birth. 
“ He keeps out of sight so much that I had really forgotten 
he was in the house; but a sharp fellow like that ought to 
be useful to us. I don't think I'll give him my part, all 
the same; but he can have his pick of the others. Now, 
what are we to do about Mrs. Hardcastle? We must get 
somebody pretty good for that part, or we shall spoil the 
whole thing. I wish Mrs. Pierpoint would come! But you 
don't know her, do you?" he asked, turning to Hope. 

“ Unfortunately, I don't," she replied. 

Carry, who having obtained what she wanted, was now a 
little ashamed of her ill-humor, said, with unwonted civil- 
ity: “ Would you mind my writing to her and asking her 
down, Hope? I don't know whether she will be able to 
come or not; but she is a great friend of mine; so perhaps 
you and she would both agree to dispense with formality 
for once." 

The great advantage possessed by those who are habit- 
ually rude is, that anything like amenity on their part is sure 
to meet with grateful acknowledgement. Hope declared 
that she would like nothing better than to make Mrs. Pier- 
point's acquaintance, and the discussion was continued in a 
much more friendly spirit than had marked its opening. 

“ Will you speak to Stiles about acting, Mrs. Herbert?" 
asked Bertie, as he wished Hope good-night. ‘ ‘ I really 
believe he would be rather an acquisition, and it might 
cheer him up a bit, poor chap, to come out of his den for 
one evening. If he didn't c.are about taking a part, he 
might help us as stage-manager. An artist should be a 
good judge of scenic effects." 

Hope thought this very good-natured of Bertie; and she 
was not best pleased when, on communicating the proposed 
arrangement to Jacob, she was met with a somewhat 
brusque refusal. 

“ We thought you might be glad of a little amusement," 
she remarked. 


184 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


44 The jackdaw who stuck the peacock’s feathers in his 
tail got very little amusement for his pains,” answered the 
young man. 44 The other birds didn’t molest him so long 
as he kept to himself; they only looked at him out of the 
corners of their eyes, and said: 4 Thank God, we are not iack- 
daws,’ and strutted by. But he hadn’t the sense to thank 
God that he was not a peacock, and so he got into trouble, ” 

44 What a wrong-headed way you have of looking at life!” 
exclaimed Hope. 44 If you go on like this you will never 
have a friend in the world.” 

44 I suppose I never shall,” said Jacob, sadly. 44 There 
are no jackdaws at Farndon, and I don’t know how to- 
strut. I should look very foolish if I attempted it. Don’t 
think me ungrateful. I have no doubt that Captain Cun- 
ningham means kindly; but even if I wished to accept his 
offer, I could not. Mr. Herbert would not like it.” 

44 You are quite mistaken — ” Hope was beginning; but- 
he interrupted her with a quick motion of his hand and a. 
smile. 

44 Ho, indeed: I don’t speak without knowledge. You 
are too kind and good to understand; and even you, if I 
told you all — but I won’t tell you all — at least, not now. 
Mrs. Herbert,” he went on, with more animation, 44 1 am 
a poor hand at expressing myself; but I should like you to 
know how much I have felt your kindness. As you say, I 
shall never have a friend, and to talk about friendship be- 
tween you and me would be absurd; but if ever I can serve 
you in any way, great or small, and if you will let me 
know of it, you will confer the truest favor upon me that 
it is in your power to confer. I see by your face that you 
think that an exaggerated way of speaking. It is not ex- 
aggerated. I mean what I say quite literally; and all kinds 
of things are possible. A day may come when you may 
want help, and when even I may be able to help you. ” 

44 Then help us with our theatricals,” returned Hope,, 
laughing. 

In truth, she did think Jacob’s language a little too 
high-flown, and his manner, even more than his words, 
affected her with a vague feeling of uneasiness. 

44 1 won’t press you to act, since you dislike it, Mr. 
Stiles,” she went on; 44 but you might give us the benefit 
of your advice as to dresses and scenery, and so on.” 

44 That I will do very gladly,” answered Jacob. 44 Miss. 


a bachelor's blunder. 


185 


Herbert will snub me; but I am accustomed to that, and 
there will be no need for me to show myself on the night of 
the performance. Only one thing I want to ask you, Mrs. 
Herbert. Would you mind calling me Jacob instead of 
Mr. Stiles in future? Both names are equally hideous; but 
the second gives offense to some people and the first doesn't. 
If I am to walk among the peacocks for a time, nobody 
shall say that I have borrowed a feather of their plumage. ” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

MRS. PIERPOINT IS PEREMPTORY. 

Pretty little Mrs. Pierpoint wrote a pretty little note to 
Hope expressing her thanks for the invitation that she had 
received, and her willingness to undertake the part of Mrs. 
Hardcastle, or any other that might be assigned to her. 
She said. that she felt as if she were already well acquainted 
with her future hostess, of whom she had heard so much 
from two of her most intimate friends — Carry Herbert and 
Bertie Cunningham— and only regretted that other engage- 
ments would prevent her from reaching Farndon until 
within about a week of the date fixed upon for the theatric- 
als. She hoped, however, that the play would not suffer 
on that account, as she meant to study Jt carefully in the 
meantime. 

The same post brought a brief missive to much the same 
effect from Dick. He, too, did not see his way to being at 
home before Christmas-eve, but had found a copy of Gold- 
smith, was committing a stated portion of dialogue to 
memory every night, and reciting it before the looking- 
glass the next morning, and expected to know his part 
perfectly by the end of the year. Wished to be informed 
whether he would be required to shave off his mustache. 
Would prefer to retain it, for choice, and had heard that 
there was some dodge of gumming it down, so as to render 
it invisible beyond the foot-lights; but was ready to make 
any sacrifice in the interests of art and the drama. 

“It looks to me as if we were positively courting dis- 
aster," remarked Hope, after she had read the substance 
of these two letters aloud at the breakfast-table. “ We 
shall all be scattered abroad until the last moment, and 


186 


a bachelor’s ^blunder. 

when we assemble we shall find ourselves more abroad than 
ever. ” 

-“It will go right enough, you’ll see,” answered Bertie, 
confidently. “ The great thing is not to be nervous; and 
I don’t think any of us suffer in that way. Besides, there 
are only two absentees, after all, and the rest of us must 
set to work to rehearse immediate^. ” 

That much was soon accomplished by means of a little 
decision and energy. The household brigade was able to 
furnish a Tony Lumpkin, the other subordinate characters 
were procured from the neighborhood, and in the course of 
ten days or so a very fair degree of proficiency was arrived 
at. Jacob Stiles acquitted himself of his functions to the 
general satisfaction, his suggestions with regard to group- 
ing and properties being thoroughly artistic, and hampered 
by no dread of expenditure; insomuch that it was evident 
that, whether the acting were first-rate or not, the piece 
would be put upon the stage in a style calculated to aston- 
ish a country audience. His manner, moreover, was so 
quiet and unobtrusive that even Carry did not feel it 
necessary to put him back in his place more than once or 
twice a day. 

Carry herself was somewhat subdued at this time. Her 
naturally imperious . temper seldom asserted itself, and, 
when it did, was quelled 'by a word from Bertie Cunning- 
ham, who ordered her about unceremoniously, and criti- 
cised her performance without mercy. Her only wish was: 
to please him, and this she showed so plainly that Hope, 
little as she liked her sister-in-law, couli not help feeling 
sorry for her. It is said that women have no great sym- 
pathy with one another, as a rule; but there is one partic- 
ular way in which no woman likes to see another ill-used — 
unless, of course, she be a rival. In the present case there 
could not be any such cause for enmity, and Hope could 
almost have found it in her heart to do something toward 
bringing about the ill-assorted match which had been con- 
templated, now that there seemed to be so little probability 
of its ever taking place. When duty or pleasure (which of 
the two it was did not quite clearly transpire) took Bertie 
away, the two women became, if not friendly, at least less 
intolerant of one another. Perhaps the elder was not in- 
sensible to the younger’s complaisance in yielding the chief 
character in the play to her without a murmur; perhaps 


a bachelor's blunder. 


18 7 


also she may have admitted to herself that Hope had yet a 
further claim upon her gratitude, since it was not to be 
supposed that any one could really prefer the society of 
Jacob Stiles to that of Captain Cunningham. 

.Be this as it may, Dick, on his return home for Christ- 
mas, found the peace appropriate to the season reigning in 
his household, together with as much of good-will as could 
reasonably be looked for. His meeting with his wife oc- 
curred in the presence of the servants, where demonstrative 
affection would have been out of place; and it is not un- 
likely that Hope had thought of this when she hurried out 
into the hall to welcome the wanderer back. Nevertheless, 
the calm, matter-of-course manner in which he accosted 
her chilled her a little. He was, as usual, good-humored 
and imperturbable; he had no account to give of his doings 
during the past few weeks, nor, apparently, any curiosity 
to be informed as to those of his wife. The only question 
that he asked referred to Carry and Bertie. 

44 How are they getting on?" he inquired. 44 Any sign 
of coming to the point?" 

44 None whatever that I can see," replied Hope. 44 They 
were always together while he was here; but it seems to 
drag somehow. To tell the truth, I don't think he is be- 
having very well." 

Dick merely shrugged his shoulders, and presently went 
away to his study. Hope saw him no more until just be- 
fore dinner, when it appeared to strike him that it would 
be at least civil to express some interest in his wife's health, 
for he entered her dressing-room while she was putting the 
finishing touches to her toilet, and said: 44 1 hope you have 
been quite well all this time." 

Hope, without turning round, answered that she had been 
perfectly well. 

44 That's all right. Spirits pretty good?" 

44 About as good as usual, I think," replied Hope, laugh- 
ing a little. 

44 That's all right," said Dick again, in his deliberate 
way. Then he advanced to the dressing-table and laid 
.sundry parcels, wrapped in silver paper, down upon it. 
44 1 stopped in London on my way back," he remarked, 
44 and picked up these at the jeweler's. I thought you 
might like to have them. They used to belong to my 
mother, and I sent them to be reset a short time ago." 


188 


A bachelor's blunder. 


There must be something very wrong about cats who re- 
fuse fistt, lord mayors who do not care to accept a baronetcy, 
and women who have no love for jewels. Hope, fortunately" 
for herself; was not abnormal to that extent. She opened 
the velvet cases, giving utterance to little cries of delight, 
as, one after another, the glittering clusters and sprays of 
diamonds revealed themselves. 44 Oh, Dick!" she ex- 
claimed, 44 how lovely! Why did you not tell me that I 
was going to have all these beautiful things?" 

44 Because I wanted to have the pleasure of seeing you 
look as you are looking now," he answered. 

44 How am I looking now?" she asked, and turned quick- 
ly toward the glass, which reflected a beautiful face, with 
laughing lips, dimpled cheeks, and eyes sparkling like the 
diamonds that they had just been gazing upon. She started 
at the sight of her own image; assuredly that was not her 
face of every day, nor anything resembling it. With a sud- 
den twinge of compunction she jumped up, pushed back 
her hair, and laid both her hands upon her husband's arm, 
looking up into his face. 

44 Dick," she said, 4 * am I generally very horrid? Am I 
cross and impatient, without any reason?" 

He replied,* with that terrible truthfulness of his: 44 Well,, 
you are rather — sometimes." 

Hope's eyes dropped. 44 1 know I am," she murmured. 
44 1 can't explain why; I never used to be like that in the* 
old days — I mean before my father died. But now — I don't 
know — sometimes I feel as if there was nobody. You 
wouldn’t understand the feeling, I suppose." 

<4 T think I do understand, though," returned Dick, 
kindly. 44 1 can imagine that I should have just the same 
sort of sensation in your place. I should long to get hold 
of Fate and punch her head; and, as that is impossible, I 
dare say I might relieve myself by getting a human head 
into chancery and punching that. But, after all, there is 
nothing for it but to submit to perverse Fate. Submission 
and pluck will pull you through; and if you haven't quite 
got the one yet, I know you have the other." 

Possibly this may not have been the rejoinder that Hope 
anticipated or desired, for it did not seem to please her 
much, and her face grew graver. Presently, however, she 
smiled again and remarked, with apparent inconsequence: 
44 Well, at any rate, you must have been thinking a little^ 


a bachelor's blunder. 


189 


about me when you ordered this pendant, because here are 
two H's intertwined and an anchor, which I suppose stands 
for Hope, and — what is that knot at the top, Dick?" 

“ It's — it's — a sort of a bowline," answered Dick, depart- 
ing for once from the path of strict veracity. 44 Yes, that 
pendant was a little bit of additional extravagance of my 
own; the diamonds don't belong to the old lot. I designed 
it myself, and I think it reflects some credit upon a man 
who hasn't had much practice in that line. The anchor is 
meant to be emblematic of your nature as well as your 
name (because, you know, you are really hopeful, though 
you may be a little down on your luck every now and then), 
and the general meaning of the whole composition is: 
4 Never say die. ' " 

Hojje's eyes glistened as she looked up at him. 44 Dick," 
she said, with a tremulous little laugh, 44 do you know that 
you are very funny? I am not sure that I can quite make 
you out; but — but — I think I rather like you." 

A look of sincere satisfaction overspread Dick's features 
at this flattering announcement. 44 That's the best news I 
have heard for a long time!" he declared. 44 We always 
were friends from the first, and I believe we shall go on 
becoming better friends now till the end of the chapter." 

So Hope fastened her pendant to the pearls that she wore 
about her neck, and she and her husband descended the 
stairs arm in arm, as a united couple should, starting 
asunder in a ludicrously guilty fashion when they were 
confronted by the astonished countenance of Miss Herbert. 

After so promising a renewal of friendly relations, it was 
to be regretted that the arrival of Bertie Cunningham, 
Mrs. Pierpoint, and various other guests should have inter- 
posed fresh barriers between those whose duty it was to en- 
tertain them. Dick devoted himself assiduously to provid- 
ing sport, in one form or another, for the men; and the 
task of amusing the ladies, together with the many other 
occupations incident to that season of the year, effectually 
prevented Hope from exchanging ideas with her husband 
from morning to night. 

y At her first view of Mrs. Pierpoint she could not repress 
l start* which was not altogether called forth by admiration 
jot the dainty little - lady, wrapped in dark sables, whose 
cheeks were delicately rosy from the outer air, and whose 
tiny white hand, sparkling with jewels, was extended to her. 


190 


a bacilelor's blunder. 


If that was Bertie Cunningham's notion of one who might 
be regarded as “ a sort of a mother,” he must be even more 
juvenile than he looked. Yet, though Mrs. Pierpoint 
may not have been exactly motherly in appearance, she 
soon showed herself to be animated by the true maternal 
instinct toward the young Guardsman who had arrived un- 
der her wing. Hope, watching her, saw that she was watch- 
ing him, and that she viewed with approval his somewhat 
ostentatious attentions to Miss Herbert. Worldly she might 
be, and possibly mistaken as to the best means of promot- 
ing her friend's welfare; but that she was disinterested 
Hope felt sure. Moreover, the touch of time became more 
legible upon her brow in a stronger light. For the rest, 
her manners were charming, and at the rehearsal which 
took place after dinner, she achieved a success due quite as 
much to her good-natured energy in helping others, as to 
her really clever interpretation of the character which had 
fallen to her own share. 

Hick's histrionic talents were not of a high order; but he 
was docile, and had learned his lesson very carefully, while 
both Miss Herbert and Captain Cunningham were pro- 
nounced to be admirable in their respective parts. The 
latter, indeed, received a compliment, as soon as the per- 
formance was over, which he would quite willingly have 
dispensed with. 

4 Allow me," said Mrs. Pierpoint, taking advantage of 
the first opportunity that offered to draw him aside, “ to 
congratulate you. Your acting is excellent. Perhaps, if 
anything, too excellent." 

“ Thanks!" answered Bertie. “You mean something 
more than you say, I presume." 

“ Fancy your having the brilliancy to make such a dis- 
covery! Yes, I actually do, I have a deep meaning. And 
now, what defense have you ready?" 

“ Oh, I am not so brilliant as ail that comes to. I never 
said I knew what you meant. ' ' 

“ And of course you can't guess. Well, to save time, I 
will be perfectly explicit. You are trying to run with the 
hare, and hunt with the hounds. Poor Carry is to^e re- 
tained as a last resource, and in it is not 

Carry's beaux, yeux that hayaiadticeffyou to stay several 
weeks on end in a dull country house, and to get up a play 
which will keep you here another fortnight at least. " * 


A bachelor's blunder. 191 

“ I knew you would say that/' remarked Bertie,, resigned- 
ly. 44 It's a pity that you should be so horribly suspicious; 
but I shall do no good by protesting. If you had seen me 
riding day after day with Miss Herbert, while Mrs. Herbert 
pottered about with that artist fellow, may be you would 
have believed in my sincerity. " 

“ There is a very simple way of proving your sincerity," 
remarked Mrs. Pierpoint. 

44 Very well, but do allow me the privilege of proving it 
at my own time. " 

44 It strikes me that you have parted with that privilege. 
You have gone too far now to draw back, and I can't see 
what excuse you have for putting off any longer what must, 
be done soon." 

44 And I can't see the reason for such breakneck haste." 

Mrs. Pierpoint frowned. 4 4 If you are not engaged to 
Carry Herbert before the month of January is over, I shall 
think very badly of you," she declared. 44 To make sure 
of a woman's consent to marry you, and then to coolly keep 
her waiting till it is a question between getting possession 
of her money and going through the bankruptcy court, is 
not pretty behavior; but to use her as a stalking-horse into 
the bargain — to pretend to devote yourself to her in order 
that you may live for a short time under the same roof 
with her brother's wife is — what shall we call it?" 

44 We need not call it anything since the case does not 
exist," answered Bertie. 44 I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Pier- 
point; I don't often lose my temper; but if anybody but 
you had said that, she shouldn't have had a second chance 
of informing me that I am a blackguard." 

Mrs. Pierpoint did not seem to be greatly impressed by 
this outburst of indignant innocence. 44 As if you could 
deceive me, after all these years!" she said. 44 1 know you 
sufficiently well to be able to read you like a book, my 
friend, and I haven't the slightest doubt in my mind as to 
what has brought you here at this moment. I had my 
suspicions all along; but as there is nothing like the evi- 
dence of one's own senses, I accepted Mrs. Herbert's invi- 
tation; and when I saw you stealing sidelong glances at her 
the whole time that you were chattering so busily to Carry* 
I was satisfied. Or, rather, I was dissatisfied." 

44 So that was what brought you here, was it?" said 
Bertie, with some displeasure. 


192 


a bachelor's blunder. 


“ Did you imagine, by any chance, that I came here with 
a view to amusing myself? Don't you think I might have 
found it just a shade more enjoyable to spend Christmas in 
London or at Melton, than among a lot of people whom I 
scarcely know, and who have only invited me because they 
couldn't find anybody else to take a part in their tedious 
theatricals?" 

“ I wish you had spent Christmas in London, and asked 
me to spend it with you!" muttered Bertie, ruefully. 

“You forget that you were already engaged here. And 
you must be still more engaged before you leave. Come, 
Bertie, you have chosen your fate, and it is not such a bad 
one, as fates go. Believe me, you won't repent of it, when 
once the plunge is over. Have you ever repented following 
my advice?" 

“You have never advised me to take so momentous a 
step as this, before. Are you so convinced that I should 
act wisely in marrying a woman with whom I beg most em- 
phatically to assure you that I am not at all in lover" 

“ It is a great deal too late to discuss that question now. 
I consider that you are bound in honor to propose to Carry. 
Added to which, I am certain that you ivill propose to her 
sooner or later. What I wish is that the matter should be 
settled before complications arise. You will hardly deny 
that complications may arise?" 

“ But that is just what I do deny." 

“ Then I can only say that I am unable to attach any 
importance to your denial. Once for all, are you going to 
do as I tell you, or are you not?" 

“ Oh, I suppose so," answered Bertie, in a sort of des- 
peration. “ 1 always end by doing as you tell me, and you 
are always right. How perhaps you will be satisfied, and 
will kindly leave off scowling at me. " 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

AN UNREHEARSED EFFECT. 

Taking a comprehensive survey of the population of 
the British Isles, it must be conceded that Christmas is 
merry to the majority. The majority get good things, or 
what they consider good things, to eat at that season; they 
receive jiresents or tips; holidays are granted to them, and 


a bachelor's blunder. 


193 


they enjoy themselves by dancing, flirting, boozing in pub- 
lic-houses, or breaking one another's heads, according as 
their various tastes may incline them. But to the minority, 
who have to provide the tips and presents and pay for the 
festivities, it is apt to be a troublous time, fraught with 
present anxieties and sad memories, and rendered doubly 
distressing by reason of the enforced joviality which must 
be assumed on its approach. Dick Herbert, however, was 
one of the exceptions which prove the rule. Having plenty 
of money, he was very willing to disburse it: without any 
personal liking for plum-pudding and mince-pies, he did 
not object to look on whilst others devoured those delicacies; 
and although not himself a dancing man, was prepared to 
encourage as much dancing under his roof as might be 
desired by those who cared to disport themselves in that 
way. 

It was many years since Berkshire society had been enter- 
tained on a large scale at Farndon Court; but the servants 
always had their ball at Christmas, and on this occasion its 
brilliancy was enhanced by the presence of the young mis- 
tress of the house and her guests. 

Hope, after treading a solemn measure with the butler, 
retired to her seat at the end of the hall, with a strong im- 
pression upon her mind that the sooner she retired alto- 
gether the more lively the proceedings would probably be- 
come; but this modest view was evidently not shared by the 
rest of the company from upstairs, who showed no inclina- 
tion to move, and seemed to derive much amusement from 
a temporary suspension of class distinctions. Bertie Cun- 
ningham, in particular, was indefatigable. Even the state- 
ly housekeeper was persuaded to*-jog^ through a polka with 
him, after which Hope saw him tearing round the room 
with house-maid after house-maid; and from the red cheeks 
and delighted gigglings of these young women, she judged 
that he must be making himself very agreeable indeed. 

By and by he found his way to her side and said, beseech- 
ingly: “ Mrs. Herbert, you'll give me a dance* won't your 
I have induced them to have a waltz. They don't much 
like it; they would prefer to have nothing but galops and 
polkas; but they have granted this as a special favor to me, 
because I have been so affable, and I want you to dance it 
with me if you will. " 

Hope stood up, but looked dubious. “ Had you not bet- 


194 


A bachelor's blunder. 


ter find a partner among the servants?" she asked. “ I 
don't think we ought to dance together, ought we?" 

“ I dare say n9t," answered Bertie, as he placed his arm 
round her waist and whirled her lightly away; “but that 
makes it all the pleasanter. There is no pleasure in life so 
great that it may not be made greater by a conviction that 
it isn't altogether right.'' 

“ I can't quite agree with you there," said Hope, laugh- 
ing. 

“ Ah, but you are not such a martyr to duty as I am. 
You don't know what it is to be harnessed and bitted and 
driven along the dull high-road, when you want to be gal- 
loping across country, and you can't understand the wild 
delight of flinging up one's heels occasionally. Not that I 
am really flinging up my heels now, or that I ever shall 
again. " 

Hope did not inquire his meaning; she was satisfied with 
the exhilaration of rhythmic movement and was scarcely 
listening to what he said. But, losing breath at last, she 
signed to him to stop, and then he suddenly burst out 
laughing. 

“ Do look at Mrs. Pierpoint being hustled along by the 
coachman!" he exclaimed. “ Did you ever see such an ex- 
pression of suffering and conscious virtue? And, oh, isn't 
she calling us bad names for enjoying ourselves, instead of 
imitating her noble example!" 

Hope, glancing at Mrs. Pierpoint, was unable to see any 
indication of that lady's being so un amiably employed, and 
said as much. 

“ Ah, that's because she knows we are talking, about 
her; you ought to have^seen her a minute ago. She was 
looking daggers — poisoned daggers at me. " 

■“ I thought you were so fond of her," said Hope. 

“ So I am, in a general way; but not to-night. Were you 
fond of your parents when they gave you a nasty physic in 
your childhood? I wasn't fond of mine; I positively ioatlied 
them, though I have no doubt that they did it for my 
good." 

“ Has Mrs. Pierpoint been giving you nasty physic?" 

Bertie heaved a great sigh. “ Don't speak of it!" he 
exclaimed. “ I haven't swallowed the dose yet, but I am 
going to swallow it; and when once it has been gulped down 
I shall feel better, perhaps. At any rate, let us hope so. 


A bachelor’s blunder. 195 

In the meantime, I would rather talk about any other sub- 
ject.” 

But he did not seem able to talk or think of any other 
subject. He recurred to it, in more or less plain language, 
every minute, and Hope could hardly affect to misunder- 
stand his drift. In spite of herself she was sorry for the 
poor young fellow. Of course he deserved no sympathy; 
what he was pleased to call duty was really nothing but 
selfishness, and if he was now compelled to sell himself into 
bondage, that necessity had only been created by his own 
fault or his own will. Nevertheless, she could not help 
feeling for him in his present distress. Had not she herself 
passed through a somewhat similar struggle once upon a 
time? He remained by her side, and they danced together 
once more. It would have been niggardly to refuse him a 
favor for which he pleaded with so much earnestness. 

4 4 There!” he exclaimed tragically, when the music 
ceased; “ now it is all over! The old life has come to an 
end and the new life is about to begin. Good-bye, youth; 
good-bye, liberty; good-bye — hope!” 

Then, as she glanced inquiringly at him, “ Don’t be 
offended,” he said; “ I didn’t spell the word with a capital 
H; 1 only meant that in a few days’ time I shall have noth- 
ing left to hope for. ” 

“ Does that imply that you will have obtained all that 
you want?” 

“ Exactly so; I shall have got what I wanted! — unless, 
by some miraculous piece of luck, what I wanted should be 
refused to me.” 

It was high time that such a conversation as this should 
terminate; and so Mrs. Pierpoint may have thought, for 
she now bore down upon the couple, and, after a few min- 
utes, drew the reluctant Bertie away. 

Hope got no further speech of him until the succeeding 
evening, when a final dress- rehearsal for the theatricals had 
been appointed to t^ke place. These promised to prove a 
genuine success, thanks partly to the dexterous manage- 
ment of Mrs. Pierpoint, and partly to that of Jacob, who 
had spared no pains to bring the mise-en-scene up to the 
high standard of excellence demanded by the taste of the 
present day. There was a sufficiency of antique, albeit re- 
cently acquired, furniture at Farndon to provide all that 
was necessary to reproduce the^ semblance of an old-fash- 


196 


A bachelor's blunder. 


ioned English parlor; there were family portraits and ant- 
lers to adorn its walls, and finally, Jacob being in want of 
some object to fill np a corner, fixed his choice upon a mar- 
ble bust of some defunct Herbert, which, with its pedestal, 
he caused to be dragged on to the stage — an unlucky in- 
spiration, as matters turned out; for this bust was destined 
to play as dramatic a part in the performance as the statue 
of the Commander in “ Don Giovanni," and the conse- 
quences of its removal were both many and far-reaching. 

However it looked very well with a glimpse of red curtain 
behind it, and got into nobody's way until the rehearsal 
was all but finished. It was when the entire strength of 
the company was drawn up near the foot-lights for the final 
scene that the impersonator of Tony Lumpkin, who had 
been plunging about the stage throughout with a good deal 
of needless exuberance, managed to fall foul of it, and very 
nearly put an end to his career then and there by his im- 
petuosity. For, starting forward to renounce Constance 
Neville, with a clumsy gait which he conceived to resemble 
that of his original, he lurched against the pedestal and 
upset its equilibrium. Had he not at the same time upset 
his own, he might perhaps have been killed; and as it was, 
he was sent sprawling upon his face, and for an instant 
the tottering mass of marble seemed about to descend upon 
Mrs. Herbert's head. 

Bertie saw the danger just in time to avert it. He 
pushed Hope forcibly away, and at the same moment the 
heavy bust fell with a crash, breaking through the plank- 
ing of the stage. The pedestal followed suit, and, after 
knocking Bertie over, rolled slowly as far as the foot-lights, 
most of which it smashed and extinguished. A great hub- 
bub ensued, succeeded by general laughter and mutual con- 
gratulations. Dick was the first to notice that Bertie was 
still lying prone and making no effort to rise. • 

“ Get up!" said he, employing his customary formula. 

“ Can't, old chap," answered Bertie, with a faint smile; 
“ I've broken my leg." 

“ Nonsense!" exclaimed Dick, dropping hurriedly upon 
his kneSs beside his prostrate friend. 

“ By Jove, he has though!" he muttered presently: 
“ that infernal pedestal must have comedown upon the top 
of him. What the deuce do people want with busts on a 
stage? Here, somebody run and fetch a blanket, and we'll 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


197 


pass it under him. Hope, send off a groom to tell Doctor 
Simpson he is wanted immediately, and let him know what 
has happened. We’!! soon put you all right, Cunningham; 
only we shall have to move you into the next room. You 
mustn’t mind a minute or two of pain.” 

Anybody who has either broken his own leg or seen 
another person’s leg broken knows what the process of re- 
moval is like and whether the pain entailed thereby is 
usually trifling. In Bertie’s case this was accomplished as 
skillfully as possible; but the pallor of his face and the 
drops that started out upon his forehead showed what he 
had to suffer during the brief transit. However, he kept 
his lips tightly closed and did not utter so much as a groan; 
thus earning golden opinions from his host, who exclaimed 
afterward with unwonted warmth: “ That’s a plucky little 
chap! I wish it had been the other duffer’s leg instead of 
his. Ho more hunting for him this season, I’m afraid.” 

“ Oh, if that is all!” returned Hope, to whom this char- 
acteristic expression of regret was addressed. “ But is he 
very much hurt, Dick? Do you think it is serious?” 

“ Well, it isn’t a compound fracture, if that’s what you 
mean, but it’s a pretty bad break, I expect. However, we 
shall see what the doctor says. ” 

The doctor, when he arrived, did not seem much inclined 
to say anything to anybody until the injured limb had been 
set; but, this operation having been accomplished, he 
looked into the drawing-room to allay the anxiety of the 
little group of ladies who were waiting there. 

“ We shall not have to cut the young gentleman’s leg off 
this time,” he announced cheerfully; “ but he must remain 
on his back for six weeks or thereabouts, and for the pres- 
ent, if you please, he is to be kept quite quiet.” 

Thus it was that “ She Stoops to Conquer ” was never 
performed at Farndon Court, after all; and those who 
were to have taken part in the play, feeling that their pres- 
ence was superfluous, made haste to leave. Mrs. Pierpoint 
went with the rest. Just before her departure she was 
allowed a short interview with the sufferer, and expressed 
her sorrow for his accident, as well as her. very sincere re- 
gret that she could not stay and nurse him. 

“ But I don’t suppose I should be allowed to do that, if 
I did stay, ’’she remarked; “ and I am leaving you in good 
hands. ” 


198 


a bachelor's blunder. 


She had not the cruelty to add a word of caution, though 
sorely tempted to do so. If Bertie was to break his leg at 
all, nothing could be better than that he should do so in a 
house where Carry would be able to while away the slow 
hours of convalescence for him. On the other hand, noth- 
ing could be worse than that Mrs. Herbert should have op- 
portunities of engaging in the same work of mercy. 
4 4 Fortunately/' reflected the little lady, 44 Carry is quite 
capable of holding her prey. I should not care to dispute 
it with her myself. And Mrs. Herbert seems to be a good, 
innocent sort of woman. She won't do wrong intentionally 
— if that is any safeguard." 

» Carry, indeed, was not slow to assert her rights, if such 
they could be called; and it must be owned that Bertie 
found her pleasanter company now than he had ever done 
before. She was perfectly quiet and self-possessed; she 
was always at his side when wanted, yet never in the way; 
she made friends with the trained nurse who had been sent 
for, and was highly commended by that functionary, while 
Hope was given to understand that ladies were a great 
trouble and binderance in a sick-room. All of which was 
quite as it should have been. 

The one inconsolable person in the house, was Jacob 
Stiles, who reproached himself bitterly with having been 
the cause of the disaster. 44 You see," he said to Hope, 
4 ‘ what a mistake it is to have anything to do with me. I 
am born to bad luck, and nothing that I touch can prosper. 
Why wasn't I the one to save you and get my leg brokenf" 

This was probably what Jacob felt to be the worst piece 
of luck in the whole business. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE PLEASURES OF HOPE. 

44 This," remarked Carry, in a tone of deep vexation, 
as she looked up from a letter that she was perusing at 
breakfast one morning, 44 is Aunt Anne all over. I expect- 
ed no less of her. Never, from the day of my birth up to 
the present moment, has she missed an opportunity of put- 
ting me to inconvenience; and if this is to be her last re- 
quest, as she assures me it will be, she will have the satis- 


A BACHELORS BLUKDER. 199 

faction of knowing that she has been consistent to the 
end. '' 

“ What has she been doing now?” inquired Dick. 

“ Really I don’t quite know. Most likely she has only 
caught a cold in her head; but she swears she is dying and 
implores me to 4 come and be reconciled ' to her. I was 
not aware that we had had a quarrel. - ” 

“ H'm! You had a pretty good imitation of one, to the 
best of my recollection. Shall you go?” 

“ I suppose I must; but it is most provoking. How 
like her to send for me just when I am wanted at home! I 
don't remember that I ever before was particularly wanted 
either at home or elsewhere. " 

“ And now you are wanted in two places at once. Flat- 
tering, but troublesome. Aunt Anne,” added Dick ex- 
planatorily, for Hope’s benefit, “ is the sole survivor of my 
mother's family. She resides in Yorkshire, and at one time 
there was an idea of Carry's living with her. It was then 
that they— didn't quarrel. The experiment was persevered 
wjth, I believe for a week — " 

“ Nearly a month,” interpolated Carry. 

“ So much as that? Anyhow it was abandoned, and 
they have never met since. Aunt Anne is possessed of con- 
siderable property, and we are her. nearest relatives.” 

“ She may leave her property to you, or to a hospital, or 
take it with her, for anything that I care,” Carry declared; 
“ but if she is really as ill as she professes to be, some one 
ought to be with her, and I know it wouldn't be the least 
use to ask you to go.'' 

“ She wouldn't see me,'' answered Dick; “ I offended 
her beyond all chance of pardon years ago by declining to 
marry somebody whom she had kindly picked out for me, 
and you see she doesn't even express a wish to be reconciled 
with me, at this supreme moment. Probably you will find 
her all right, and we shall have you back again in a day or 
two. We'll endeavor to take care of Cunningham during 
your absence.” 

4 4 Oh, the nurse will take care of him. If only you will 
abstain from bothering him he will do well enough. And 
I don't think I need be long away,” continued Carry, mus- 
ingly. “ In a week, at the outside, one ought to be able to 
tell how things will go.” 

Possibly it may have consoled her to know that Bertie, at 


200 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


all events, must be a fixture for many weeks to come. She 
softened the pain of parting for him by an assurance that 
she would be with him again very shortly; and the invalid, 
whom a feverish and restless night had left indifferent to 
all that might take place outside the four walls of his room, 
murmured what was fitting in reply, without much anima- 
tion in his tone. He had almost, if not quite, forgotten 
that he had been upon the brink of proposing to Miss Her- 
bert before he had created a diversion by pulling a bust 
down upon himself, and felt neither joy nor sorrow at her 
departure. 

This unnatural apathy, however, lasted no longer than 
the sleeplessness to which it was due, and in a few days’ 
time he was able to hear with a distinct sensation of pleas- 
ure that Carry would be prevented from redeeming her 
promise of a speedy return. Her Aunt Anne, it appeared, 
was suffering from an attack of bronchitis, which the doc- 
tors believed must end fatally, but, with glaring bad taste 
and selfishness, was clinging to life in a manner which 
seemed to presage a prolonged struggle. 

44 She won’t hear of my leaving her/’ Carry wrote, 44 and 
as the first thing she said to me was that she had made a 
will in my favor, I can’t very well turn my b^ck upon the 
poor old woman. Please tell Captain Cunningham how 
distressed I am that I am unable to be of any use to him in 
his illness, and warn him that he must be very careful not 
to overexert himself and not to talk too much.” 

The above passage occurred in a letter addressed to 
Hoj)e, and was read aloud by her to the patient, who ob- 
served, with a smile, that he didn’t see how a man in his 
position could overexert himself. 44 And, as for talking, 
you don’t give me a great many chances of doing that.” 

44 Have we left you too much alone?” asked Hope, anx- 
iously. 44 1 would have sat with you longer, only I was 
afraid you would be tired; and indeed I believe Carry is 
right: you ought not to talk. Would you like me to read 
something to you?” 

Bertie thanked her and said that he would. The truth 
was that he cared very little how she was employed, so long 
as she remained in sight. There are people whose mere 
presence in the room is soothing to a fretful convalescent — 
whose voices and gestures are 4 4 like the melody that’s 
sweetly played in tune;” just as, unhappily, there are 


a bachelor's blunder. 


201 


others whose proximity can only suggest the idea of a dis- 
cord. Bertie, lying on his back and following Hope with 
his eyes, as she moved noiselessly hither and thither, found 
similes for her which quite astonished him by their grace- 
fulness, seeing that he was not, at ordinary times, of a 
poetic turn. But certain circumstances will convert the 
veriest clod into a poet of a kind, and Bertie was powerless 
to disguise from himself the fact that to those circumstances 
he was now a prey. Probably he did not attempt to de- 
ceive himself about the matter, for according to his system 
of ethics it was no great sin to be in love with a married 
woman; it was one of those things that a fellow couldn't 
help. 

Between being in love and declaring one's love there is, 
however, obviously a wide distinction; which distinction he 
stoutly bore in mind. And this was the more creditable 
because self-denial was to him an absolutely novel experi- 
ence. Any one who should have told this young man that 
he was doing wrong in harboring feelings which afforded 
him so -sweet a melancholy, and that it was his duty to 
crush them ruthlessly, would have surprised him very much 
indeed. His own belief was that, on the contrary, he would 
do himself a great deal of good by encouraging them. His 
thoughts about Hope were all pure, refined, and elevating; 
she made him feel ashamed of his past and present life, a 
thing which he had never felt before; he wished for her 
sake — though, to be sure, it would make no difference to 
her — that he could achieve something fit to command the 
admiration of his fellow-men, “ like that beggar Stiles:" 
there were even moments when he contemplated setting up 
an entirely changed standard for his future guidance — the 
standard taught him by his mother with the aid of the 
Church Catechism ever so many years ago, and which no 
single human being whom he was acquainted with acted up 
to or thought of acting up to. However, it must be con- 
fessed that, upon mature reflection, he did not see his way 
of going quite such lengths as that. For the present, it 
seemed sufficient to form sundry good resolutions, which 
at all events could not be broken until his leg was mended. 

Hope, quite unconscious of the beneficial influence that 
she was exercising upon her patient, thought him greatly- 
changed for the better by the uses of adversity. His pa- 
tience and cheerfulness were admirable; he never grumbled 


202 


a bachelor's blunder. 


nor admitted that he was in pain; he had laid, aside the lit- 
tle airs and affectations of a young man much sought after 
in society, and discoursed frankly and naturally, like the 
grown-up school -boy that he was. He told her all about 
his home and his brothers and sisters; and she, in return, 
spoke more freely to him of her father and her past life 
than she had ever spoken to her husband. The difference 
between Bertie and Dick was that the former was profound- 
ly interested in everything that concerned her, while the 
latter evidently was not. Now, if there is one thing more 
than another which a young and beautiful woman is en- 
titled to resent, it is being treated with the utmost indul- 
gence and consideration by a man who takes no interest in 
her. Dick, therefore, earned very little gratitude by pres- 
ents of diamonds, and not much more by taking his wife 
out hunting, and thus utterly sacrificing his own sport. 
Hope, mounted on a powerful and well-trained animal, and 
fortified by the instructions of Jacob, did not come to grief 
a second time; but she had hardly experience enough to be 
trusted without a pilot, and when she found that Dick was 
determined not to leave her to her own devices, she declared 
that hunting did not amuse her, and refused to persevere 
with it. 

“ You yourself told me that you did not think the hunt- 
ing-field the proper place for a lady," she said, in answer 
to Dick's protestations, and as he was too honest to with- 
draw a rashly expressed opinion, that clinched the matter. 

Some men might have thought that their wives would be 
safer in the hunting-field than by the couch of a fascinating 
youth; but Dick was not of that mind. It was into his 
study that Bertie had been carried on the night of the acci- 
dent, and there the invalid had remained ever since, a bed 
having been brought down-stairs for him. Dick used to 
stride in thither, booted and spurred, when he returned 
home in the evening, and would sit for awhile,. listening con- 
tentedly to the light conversation which his entrance did 
not interrupt. Hope had taken to painting again. Her 
easel had been placed in the window, so that she could 
work and keep the prostrate Bertie entertained at one and 
the same time. Sometimes Jacob Stiles was induced to 
descend from his lair and aid her with his counsels; but he 
generally rose and stole away when the master of the house 
appeared. Thus the weeks slipped away pleasantly enough 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


203 


for all the inmates of Farndon Court, and it is to be feared 
that not one of them regretted poor Miss Herbert, detained 
in Yorkshire by the exasperating vitality of Aunt Anne, 
who, during this period, had’ been again and again at the 
point of death, but had always rallied, and who maintained 
her hold upon her niece with a tenacity which it may be 
hoped, for the credit of human nature, that she would 
have relaxed had she known what terrible havoc was being 
wrought with her niece’s prospects thereby. 

For it is certain that, before his accident, Bertie had 
finally determined to ask Miss Herbert to marry him, and 
it is probable that, if she had lingered by his bedside, he 
would have carried his determination into effect. Now, 
however, all was changed. Providence had interfered; 
circumstances for which he could not be held accountable 
had given him a respite; and this he did not fail to repre- jjj« 
sent in answer to certain anxious missives which reached him 
from Mrs. Pierpoint. Few and brief were the replies obtained 
from him by Mrs. Pierpoint; few and brief also were those 
which he dispatched to Yorkshire, whence Carry wrote him 
letters of-several sheets, which she did her utmost to render 
amusing, knowing full well that he would never read them 
if they were not. To any one who could read between the 
lines — as Bertie should certainly have been able to do — - 
there was something not a little pathetic in the laborious 
jocularity of these compositions, interspersed here and there 
by some involuntary phrases which betrayed the writer’s 
uneasiness; but their recipient was not touched by them; 
for in all the world there is no creature so hard-hearted as 
a lover. 

It so chanced that the climate, all through that winter, 
exhibited itself in one of the gentlest of its many moods. 

A mild, moist January was succeeded by a February so 
warm that people who ought to have known better declared 
winter to be at an end, and Nature herself, always reMy to 
be deceived by this ancient trick, began pushing forward 
her preparations for the coming spring as though there had 
been no such things as March east winds and April frosts 
to ruin her handiwork. But English people must take their 
weather as it comes, and be thankful when they can. To 
be able to lie in an invalid-chair out-of-doors in the month 
of February is something to be thankful for when your 
walking powers are in abeyance, and Bertie freely admitted 


2or 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


as much, adding that he would be happy to break his other 
leg for the sake of spending six more such weeks as he had 
just left behind him. 

This was said with artless spontaneity in the presence of 
Dick, who remarked placidly: “ What a tremendous 
cram!” But Hope thought it a very pretty speech, even 
though it were a trifle hyperbolical. She was not so selfish 
as to wish that her guest should pass through a' second six 
weeks of suffering; but she would gladly have kept him 
with them a little longer and was rather annoyed with the 
doctor for forcing the young man to begin walking as soon 
as he could put his foot to the ground. He himself pro- 
tested that he took this first step with the utmost reluc- 
tance. “ I was in hopes that I shouldn’t be able to man- 
age it,” he said; “but the melancholy fact is that I am 
one very nearly as sound as ever. And what are legs given 
to one for except to carry one away?” 

“ And to bring one back again,” remarked Dick. 
“ Windsor isn’t quite at the Antipodes, you know.” 

“No; but after giving you such a dose of my company, 
I sha’n’t venture to come over often. Besides, you will be 
moving to London before long, I suppose.” 

“ So will you, for the matter of that. By- the way, 
Hope, I was going to ask you whether you would mind 
running, up to town with me for a couple of days next 
week. I have heard of a house for sale in Bruton Street 
which I think might do for us, and I should like you to 
have a look at it. ” 

Tliis was the first that Hope had heard of her husband’s 
intention to set up a London establishment, and she ex- 
pressed some surprise. 

“I thought it would be more comfortable for you,” 
Dick explained. “ It’s a nuisance having to hire every 
season, and I believe it costs nearly as much, in the long 
run, as having a house of your own. You’ll excuse our 
leaving you for forty-eight hours, won’t you, Cunningham?” 

“My dear fellow, I don’t think I shall be here next 
week,” answered Bertie. 

But neither Dick nor Hope would hear of his hastening 
his departure, and as the doctor backed them up, saying 
that Captain Cunningham was certainly not quite fit to re- 
turn to duty yet, it was agreed that he should allow himself 
a further ten days of repose. 


A BACHELOR^ BLENDER. 


205 


There was no fault to be found with the house in Bruton 
Street, nor very much with its furniture, which was to be 
had at a valuation and which Dick was in favor of pur- 
chasing. As to that, however, he begged Hope to please 
herself. If she preferred to choose her own furniture, she 
was at liberty to do so; but she replied quite sincerely that 
she did not care enough about the matter to take all that 
trouble. She might have cared, if he had; for she had the 
eye of an artist, besides a woman's natural love for pretty 
surroundings; but it is dull work to have only one's self to 
please. Hope was satisfied to make a very brief inspection 
of her future London home; having done which she left 
Dick to arrange details with his lawyers, and drove off 
to see Mills, by whom she was received with a loud and 
joyful welcome. The rooms which she had once occupied 
were tenantless, and thither Mills conducted her, seating 
herself upon the edge of a chair and contemplating her 
young mistress with eyes of pride and contentment. 

44 Poor old room!" murmured Hope, gazing round her 
at the four walls, which somehow seemed to have contract- 
ed a little since she had seen them last; 44 1 was very happy 
here." 

44 How you can talk so!" cried Mills, not ill-pleased. 
44 'T was no place for you, ma'am, and glad I am that 
you're out of it; though I've missed you terrible. " 

Then she proceeded to make inquiries about Mr. Her- 
bert and Farndon Court, and was glad to learn that the 
flattering reports which had reached her of both had not 
been exaggerated. 44 As for your being happy, I don't 
need to ask no questions about that; 'tis enough to look at 
your face. There's only one thing more you want." 

44 And what is that?" asked Hope, unsuspiciously. 

44 Why, a little son and heir, my dear," replied Mills, 
with great archness of manner. 44 Aren't you going to let 
your poor old nurse hold a baby in her arms again?" 

Hope thought this remark of Mills's in rather bad taste; 
but, not wishing to take offense where none was meant, she 
only answered that there was no prospect- of the event al- 
luded to occurring, and changed the subject. 

From Henrietta Street she had herself driven to South 
Kensington, to exchange greetings with another old friend. 
Tristram was at home, and the forbidding frown which iiad 
gathered on his brow at the announcement that a lady 


206 


A BACHELOR*S BLUNDER. 


wished to speak to him vanished when the identity of his 
visitor became revealed. 

“You are the very person whom I wanted to see!” he 
exclaimed, as he shook hands with her. “ What is this I 
hear about a young artist of the highest promise whom you 
are keeping hidden down in Berkshire? I saw a few of his 
pictures the other day, and I give you iny word that they 
took my breath away. What a draughtsman! What a 
colorist! Who in the world is he? And why has he never 
exhibited?” 

Hope furnished the required particulars, while Tristram 
listened to her attentively. When she had done; “ Give 
my compliments to your young friend,” said he, “ and tell 
him that I will venture upon a prop'hecy about him. In a 
very few years* time he will be well on his way toward 
making a large fortune, and he will be the most popular 
artist in England.** 

“ I am very glad to hear you say so,** remarked Hope. 
“But why?** 

“For three good reasons. Firstly, because he can draw; 
secondly, because he can paint; thirdly, because, judging 
by such of his productions as I have seen, he has very little 
taint of originality in him. Just listen to this,** added 
T ristram, catching up a newspaper which was lying beside 
him; “ the criticism doesn*t refer to your friend, but it is 
just as edifying as if it did. ‘ It is always a relief to pause 
before one of Mr. *s canvases. In his careful and admira- 

ble handiwork we find none of that undisciplined fancy, that 
straining after bizarre effects, that determination to be 
singular at any price, which so sadly disfigure modern Art. 
Mr. is content to adopt the canons upheld by genera- 

tion after generation of illustrious predecessors; he has had 
the wisdom to concede that Art is governed by certain 
laws which no man may venture to transgress. Of these 
laws he has gained a thorough knowledge ; by the light of 
them he has labored, and it is to his allegiance to them that 
he owes — * etc., etc., etc. I haven’t the patience to read 
on: I don*t know what it is that he owes to his allegiance 
to the laws of Art — the praise of this competent critic, per- 
haps. Who the deuce ever said that Art had no. laws? It 
is as if somebody should pompously announce that Gray is 
a poet and Browning isn*t, because Gray happened to live 
at a period when poets were tied and bound by laws that 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


207 


were not laws of Art at all, and had to amble along as best 
they could, like Arab horses; whereas Browning, who has 
had the good fortune to flourish a century later, may kick 
about as he pleases. I don't deny that Gray was a poet, I 
don't deny that this man is an artist. But, by George! I 
am an artist too." 

Tristram was fast working himself up into a rage, and 
felt that it was time to desist. “ Well, well," he said, “ I 
dare say all this doesn't interest you much. But inform 
your young friend from me that he has a great career be- 
fore him. I should say that he has as much technical 
knowledge as any man in England, and he possesses the 
priceless merit of being commonplace. Let him stick to 
that and he will do. How let us have a look at you. " 

He knitted his brows, scrutinizing her closely for a few 
seconds, and it seemed as if the conclusions at which he ar- 
rived from a study of her face were not identical with those 
drawn by Mills, for he ejaculated “Hah!" And then, 
“ Have you fallen back upon painting yet?" 

“I have lately," answered Hope, a little confused by 
his abruptness. 

“I thought so. You are quite right; you will never 
have a better friend than art. What sort of a life do you 
lead at Farndon Court? How do you employ youself every 
day?" 

Hope answered by giving him a list of her ordinary duties 
and occupations, amongst which she omitted to mention 
that of nursing Captain Cunningham. She did not wish 
Tristram to suppose that she was dissatisfied with her lot, 
and laid a good deal of stress upon her husband's kindness, 
giving, as one instance of it, the circumstance that he had 
just purchased a house in London for her especial benefit. 
But there is reason to believe that she failed in throwing 
dust in the eyes of her auditor, who wound up the interview 
by remarking: “ You haven't changed, I see; your face is 
the same as when I painted your portrait — how long ago is 
it? You are still Hope. Well, you might be worse off. I 
suppose there can't be a great many happy people in the 
worid; perhaps there is no such thing as happiness, and 
perhaps hope is the best substitute for it that exists. L)o 
you know those lines beginning — 

“ ‘ Esperance qui m’accompagnes, 

Depuis qu’ ensemble nous allons 


208 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


A travers bois, pres et montagnes, 

Ai-je jamais trouve les chemins longs?’ 

They always remind me a little of you somehow.” 

He followed her to the outer door and lingered for a 
moment, looking at her with the wistful expression which 
his eyes took at times. “ Don’t ask too much of life,” he 
said; “ but don’t sink into acquiescence either. May be a 
good time is coming, and if it isn’t, what matter, so long as 
you can look forward to it? I’ll dine with you some even- 
ing when you come up to town, if you’ll ask me; and that 
is more than I would say to any other lady in London, let 
me tell you.” 

Hope went her way, a little perturbed by Tristram’s ob- 
servations, and a little ashamed that she should have allowed 
her thoughts to be so readily divined. The concluding 
stanza of the short poem that he had quoted hung in her 
memory as she went: — 

“ A travers bois, pres et montagnes, 

A tes cdtes pressant le pas, 

Esperance qui m’accompagnes, 

Marckons tou jours, n’arrivons pas!” 

Possibly Tristram and the French poet might be right; 
possibly it is better to long for what will never come, than 
to. sit down in a sort of contented despair and make the 
best of what can not be helped. Still, in order to taste the 
pleasures of hope, one should at least have some approxi- 
mate idea of what it is that one hopes for. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE TEMPLE OF FAME. 

To all the ills of this mortal life, there is no surer anti- 
dote than that of a fine healthy self-approbation. A man 
may lose his professional renown, his political influence, his 
heart, or even his money, and yet so long as he can say to him- 
self: “ Well, at any rate, what has happened is no fault of 
mine; I have done my duty all along, and though some 
people may pity me, nobody will venture to blame me ” — 
so long as he can indulge in these or similar cogitations, it 
is certain that he 'will not be altogether miserable. And 
the fortunate thing is that this remedy does not at all de- 


A bachelor's blunder. 


209 


pend for its success upon the veracity of the cogitator, but 
only upon his sincerity; so that it may be confidently rec- 
ommended to all who possses the power of deceiving them- 
selves; which is as much as to sa} r that it is quite good 
enough for most of us. 

By Bertie Cunningham it was felt to be an immense al- 
leviation of the pain which his impending departure from 
Farndon could not but cause him. When the last day of 
his sojourn in what to him had been an earthly paradise, 
arrived, when his servant had packed up his belongings, 
when breakfast was over, and when he sauntered off to the 
conservatory to say a few last words to Mrs. Herbert, who 
had happened to mention that she was going thither, his 
conscience applauded him so loudly that, for the first time 
in his life, he recognized how truly valuable a possession 
that invisible counselor may prove, upon occasion. He 
had behaved in all respects like a gentleman^ he had in- 
jured neither his friend nor his friend's wife; in all his pro- 
tracted talks with Hope he had said nothing which he 
might not have said before any number of auditors. And 
if it should strike the reader that this was. rather too nega- 
tive a kind of righteousness to boast of, let him place him- 
self in Bertie Cunningham's position and try to be more 
charitable. An aged Scotchwoman once mentioned with 
pride to a contemporary gammer that she had never through- 
out her long life been guilty of a slip from the path of 
virtue. “ Aiblins ye were nae temptation," observed the 
other dryly. We are not all young Guardsmen of excep- 
tional beauty of person; experience has not led us all to be- 
lieve that we can achieve an easy victory over any woman's 
heart; nor, happily, have we all been taught to take Ber- 
tie's light view of the sanctity of the marriage-tie. 

It was, perhaps, just as well that he was invigorated at 
the moment by breathing the pure air of high principle; 
for Hope did not disguise her sorrow at losing him, and, 
had she been anybody else, there can be no doubt but what 
he would have endeavored to console her in his customary 
manner. As it was, he only shook his head mournfully 
and declared that he felt as if he were going back to school 
after the holidays — “ only more so." 

“ And yet," remarked Hope, “ I suppose you liked school 
when you were there?" 

“ That's the worst of it; one doesn't break one's heart. 


210 


A BACHELORS BLUNDEE. 


whatever happens. The world goes on, and everything is 
soon forgotten. Not that I shall ever forget your kindness 
to me, Mrs. Herbert. It's no use to attempt to thank you; 
I haven't the eloquence of your friend Stiles. You ought 
to hear him talk about you ! If you will get him to give 
you his estimate of your character and take the square of 
that, you will arrive at a faint understanding of the feel- 
ings which I can't express." 

“ All that because I sometimes read aloud to you when 
you were ill?" asked Hope, laughing. 

4 4 No, because — because you are yourself, I suppose. 
Well; it is all over now, and I have got to pick up my life 
where I left it." 

“ Is that absolutely necessary?" inquired Hope, snipping 
off a flower from its stem. 

“Absolutely, I should say. Nothing is altered; it's a 
case of f As you were!' All my old difficulties are waiting 
for me, and there is only the one old way of getting out of 
them." 

Hope laid down her basket and scissors, and looked ear- 
nestly at her cpmpanion. “ Do you know," she said, 
“ what I would do, if I were in your place?" 

“ I dare say I can guess. You would resign your com- 
mission, and go in for cattle* ranching in Texas. When 
you were out there you would live with the utmost frugal- 
ity, and send home periodical checks, until the last of your 
debts was paid. Then, by degrees you would accumulate 
a fortune, and you would return to England in a green old 
age, with a view to devoting the remainder of your days to 
good works. " 

“ I don't know about Texas," said Hope, “ but I Would 
certainly give up the Guards, and I would certainly pay 
my debts. I would pay them by my own exertions, too," 
she added, after a momentary hesitation. 

“ I haven't a doubt of it. But you are a saint, and I am 
a sinner. The most that can be looked for from me is that 
perhaps, after knowing you, I may be a little bit less of a 
sinner in future. " 

Hope had not much to say in answer to this. The sub- 
ject of Bertie's possible marriage to her sister-in-law was 
always a repugnant one to her. She felt that it would be 
disloyal to the latter to dissuade him from it, and yet she 
was convinced that nothing but unhappiness could come of 


A BACHELOR’S BLUNDER. 


211 


such a union. At the bottom of her heart she scarcely be- 
lieved that it would ever take place; she fancied, too, that 
Bertie had rather more manliness in his composition than 
he was pleased to give himself credit for. 

For about a week after he had gone she missed him very 
much; but he was not indispensable to her, and although 
she felt lonely at times — for Dick had always one excuse or 
another for absenting himself from morning till night, and 
Jacob’s morbid dread of being thought intrusive kept him 
pretty constantly out of sight — she managed to get through 
the days, and found solitude infinitely preferable to the 
companionship of Carry, whose letters from Yorkshire had 
of late assumed a tone of hopeless resignation. 

“ Aunt Anne sits in one room all day long,” she wrote, 
■“ with a couple of tea-kettles boiling on the fire to keep 
the air moist, and the doctor says she will probably take a 
turn for the better, and I shall obtain my release when the 
warm weather comes. But as for my getting away within 
any period that can be counted by weeks, that is past pray- 
ing for. It now only remains for the dear old lady to get 
perfectly well, live for another ten years, and cut me off 
with a sixpence. ” 

Easter fell early that year, and the trees round about 
Farndon Court were only beginning to be tipped with green 
here and there, when Mr. and Mrs. Herbert made their 
move to London for the season. And very soon after their 
arrival in Bruton Street, Hope was brought to a realizing 
sense of how serious a matter a London season is for those 
whose acquaintance is large. The shoals of cards which 
she found in the hall every afternoon speedily made the 
purchase of a visiting-book imperatively necessary, and she 
was invited to many more entertainments than she could 
possibly attend. The incessant racket and bustle of this 
new life was not disagreeable to her, entering upon it, as 
she did, with all the curiosity of inexperience; only she felt 
that she would be able to enjoy herself more when once the 
ceremony of her presentation should be safely over. That 
ordeal, which she had been prevented from undergoing be- 
fore her marriage could now be no longer postponed; and 
her aunt, who was to present her, was exceedingly anxious 
that her dress should be worthy of the occasion. This, 
being constructed by a celebrated artiste , who had been 
troubled by no conditions as to price, proved beautiful 


2 12 


a bachelor's blunder. 


enough to bear even Lady Jane's critical inspection; yet it 
was not nearly so beautiful as its wearer, whose arrival in 
all the glory of the Herbert diamonds, caused quite a little 
sensation at the palace. 

Indeed, in a surprisingly short space of time Hope found 
herself famous. Royalty had been graciously pleased to 
make some complimentary remarks upon her appearance, 
which of course were reported to her afterward ; everybody 
who did not know her begged to be introduced, and she 
might ere long, had she been so minded, have been num- 
bered aqiong those ladies to whom has been given the some- 
what equivocal title of professional beauties. Happily, the 
current of her ambition did not set that way. She desired 
only to see the world and to be amused — or, at least, if she 
desired anything more, she was not, for the time being, 
aware of the fact. 

While Hope was thus achieving a social triumph, Jacob 
Stiles was earning laurels in what may perhaps be con- 
sidered a more honorable field. The two pictures which he 
sent up to the Academy that year were not only accepted, 
not only hung on the line and praised without stint by the 
critics, but had the good fortune to commend themselves 
at once to the favor of the public, which clustered round 
them in such large numbers that a policeman had to be 
told off for the especial duty of keeping the gangway in front 
of them clear. The first of these works represented a 
chariot race at Constantinople in the time of Justinian, and 
was considered by high authorities to be infinitely the finer 
of the two. It contained an immense number of figures, 
grouped with great skill, so that the effect of monotony, 
which is one of the dangers of such subjects, was complete- 
ly avoided. The whole composition was extremely spirited, 
and both horses and charioteers were drawn in such a 
manner as to display the artist's thorough knowledge of 
anatomy. The second picture, which was in some sort a 
pendant to the first and attracted a somewhat larger crowd 
of admirers, was entitled “ Ascot on a Cup Day." The 
scene was one with which Jacob had good reason to be 
familiar, and it would not have been easy to pick holes in 
his treatment of it. What he had chosen to depict was 
neither the race nor the royal procession up the course, but 
the filing of the horses out of the paddock, under the 
anxious scrutiny of the throng gathered about them. Such 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 213 

a theme was, of course, wanting both in novelty and in 
artistic accessories; the chief merit of the picture lay in 
the varied expressions of the different faces -among which 
some excellent likenesses were discernible — and in the ap- 
pearance of the horses, every detail of which was rendered 
with an accuracy and minuteness Which perhaps could 
hardly have been attained by any one who had not passed 
a good many years of his life in a training-stable. 

Both pictures were new to Hope; for Jacob, who had. 
been a long time at work upon them, had never removed 
them from his studio in Gower Street. Other engagements 
prevented her from attending the private view, and it was 
only after the Academy had been open for some ten days 
that she and her husband found an opportunity of inspect- 
ing what were already declared on all sides to be its chief 
attractions. She had not been standing in rapt admiration 
before the first of the large canvases for more than five 
minutes, and Dick had not swallowed more than three or 
four yawns, when a well-known voice, close to her ear, re- 
marked: 44 This is what I call luck.” 

44 Captain Cunningham!” exclaimed Hope, turning 
round with a bright smile of welcome; 44 1 was wondering 
when we should meet again, and I have been looking out 
for you at every party since we came to London. It is in- 
deed a piece of luck that we should chance to come across 
each other in this crowd. ” 

44 Ah, but that wasn't quite what I meant," answered 
Bertie. 44 The fact is that I saw Herbert at the club last 
night, and he told me you would be here to-day, so that 
my presence isn't exactly due to luck or chance. Stiles is 
the lucky man. I congratulate him and I envy him. I 
shall never see you looking at me with that expression of 
countenance.” 

44 It is extremely unlikely that you ever will,” said Hope, 
laughing; 44 but then you do not happen to be a picture. 
If you can induce Mr. Stiles to paint your portrait, I have 
no doubt that I shall be able to gaze at it with an expres- 
sion of countenance which will satisfy you. " 

44 For- the sake of the artist, not of the subject? Thanks; 
but I don't think it would give me any particular pleasure 
to be immortalized upon those terms. I maintain that 
Stiles is a lucky beggar; but I admit that he deserves his 
luck. ^ * Tove, here's the man himself!” 


214 


a bachelor's blunder. 


“ Oh! — where?" exclaimed Hope; and then, catching 
sight of Jacob, she pushed her way to his side and shook 
him by the hand impulsively. 

“ When did you come to London?" she asked. “ Why 
have you not been to see us? I am glad you did not come 
before I had seen your wonderful pictures, though. You 
see, Mr. Tristram was quite right. I told you that he pre- 
dicted you would be famous before long " — she had not, 
however, told him one of Tristram's reasons for holding 
that opinion — “ and you are certainly famous enough now. 
Everybody is talking about you. " 

Jacob murmured some inarticulate words of thanks. He 
had been living in his old rooms for more than a week, but 
had not called in Bruton Street, and did not intend doing 
so. Surely Mrs. Herbert must understand that he could 
not take so great a liberty! 

But Mrs. Herbert understood him very imperfectly. 
“ Have you come here to enjoy your triumph?" she went 

on. 

Jacob smiled. “ Oh, no!" he answered, quietly; “ but 
I have the advantage of being quite unknown, and I like 
to listen to the remarks that people make about me and 
my work. Some of them are very — instructive. " 

“ How are you, Stiles?" said Bertie, who had strolled 
up. “ I'm afraid I can't make any instructive remarks; 
but I am not going to let my ignorance deter me from tell- 
ing you that I think your ‘ Ascot Cup Day ' about the very 
best thing in the way of a picture that I ever saw. The 
other one is better, I am told; only as I wasn't born in the 
time of old What's-his-name and never attended one of his 
chariot-race meetings, I don't feel competent to give an 
opinion upon that subject. I have been at Ascot once or 
twice in my life, though, and if I were to stand before that 
picture of yours for a few minutes I should think I was 
there now. I believe I could spot the winner out of your 
string of horses, too. The chestnut is the one to back, 
isn't he?" 

“ Yes, I think so," answered Jacob. 

He did not seem to be in the least elated by his success, 
and Hope was a little provoked with him for taking things 
so coolly. “ If I were in your place I should be half crazy 
with pride and delight," she declared; “ but I don't be- 
lieve you care a bit. " 


a bachelor's blunder. 


215 


44 I am very glad that you think I have done my work 
well, Mrs. Herbert/' he replied. 

The fact was that when she accosted him he had been 
thinking how sweet success must be to most men, and how 
very little it was worth to him. He had neither friend nor 
lover nor relation to share in it, and the utmost that it 
could do for him was to help him toward independence. 
Even that had no longer the charm which it had once pos- 
sessed in his eyes. 

Presently Dick, who had been talking to a friend, joined 
the little group. 44 Well, Jake," he said, 44 so you are a 
great man at last. I wish you joy with all my heart. " 

Bertie and Hope had moved on a few paces, and the two 
men were left side by side in the surging crowd. Jacob 
raised his eyes for a moment to Dick's, but found no re- 
sponse there to his unspoken appeal — only a good-humored, 
and, as he thought, slightly contemptuous patronage. 

44 Thank you," he answered, briefly; 44 but I am not a 
great man and never shall be. I have known for a long 
time that I am something rather above an average artist. 
All this doesn't make me think more highly of myself." 

44 It helps to bring grist to the mill, though, I suppose. " 

44 Oh, yes; it does that. Sir Josiah Cotton, the great 
Manchester mill-owner, has bought both these pictures, 
and is to pay me about five times their value." He added, 
after a momentary pause: 44 1 shall not want an allowance 
any more now." 

Dick thought this a somewhat ungracious speech, as in- 
deed it was; but he believed that it was Jacob's nature to 
be ungracious, and it was not his own nature to take any 
notice of such trifles. 44 That will be just as you please, 
my dear fellow," he said; 44 only I hope you won't turn 
your back upon Farndon in your prosperity. Your rooms 
will always be ready for you, you know, whenever you like 
to occupy them. " 

Jacob was silent for an instant, looking down at the 
ground, as usual. Then — 44 1 should like to be at Farndon 
sometimes," he answered. 44 Mrs. Herbert has been very 
kind to me. " 

This, too, might have been considered an ungracious 
speech, seeing that great kindness had been shown to Jacob 
at Farndon before ever Mrs. Herbert had been heard of 
there; but Dick was rather pleased than otherwise by it. 


216 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


“ I am very glad that you and she got on so well together/’ 
he said. “ I am afraid she would have found it awfully 
slow last winter if you had not been there.” 

“And Captain Cunningham/’ added Jacob, who de- 
cidedly was not in a discreet mood that day. The moment 
after he had uttered these words he would have been glad 
to recall them. He was aware that they were objection- 
able, not to say impertinent; yet he was hardly prepared 
for the manner in which they were received. 

“ What do you mean by that?” inquired Dick, quite 
quietly, but with a perceptible change of tone. 

Was Jacob Stiles a coward? He had put the question 
to himself more than once, and had never been able to 
answer it entirely to his own satisfaction. In a physical 
sense he was at least as brave as most men. He would not 
think twice, for instance, about mounting the most vicious 
brute in England, nor had he ever hesitated to ride at a 
fence because he did not know what was on the other side. 
Indeed, he was far more reckless than good riders generally 
are. Nevertheless, a short, sharp challenge, with the hint 
of a blow behind it, would cause him certain inward 
qualms, together with an outward aspect of shrinking 
which he could neither control nor conceal. 

“ I meant nothing more than what I said,” he replied, 
rather sullenly. 

Dick smiled. “I expect you did, though,” remarked 
he. “ Never mind. Don’t do it again, that’s all.” He 
added, in his usual good-humored, deliberate accents: “ The 
fact of the matter is that you’ve got a good deal of envy 
and jealousy about you, Jake. Don’t mind my telling you 
so, do you?” 

Jacob’s reply was inaudible. He muttered something, 
turned on . his heel, and slipped away through the crowd, 
while Dick, with a shrug of his shoulders and a smile, 
strode after his wife and Cunningham. 

It is likely enough that poor Jacob was jealous and en- 
vious. The latter, indeed, he could hardly help being, 
since he had never yet met the man with whom he would 
not joyfully have changed places. Had such an exchange 
been practicable the poorest struggling artist whose daub 
had been sent back to him from Burlington House that 
spring might have had Mr. Stiles’s niche in the temple of 
fame and been made welcome to it. 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


217 


“ He is a queer creature/’ remarked Tristram, who re- 
deemed his promise of dining in Bruton Street a few. days 
after this. “ I was anxious to make his acquaintance, so I 
asked him to dinner with some other young fellows; but I 
could get nothing out of him. His appearance surprised 
me. From his pictures, I was expecting to see a fair 
young man, with a good deal of forehead, and a smiling 
mouth, when in walks this handsome, black-browed, 
saturnine-looking fellow and glances at me out of the cor- 
ners of his eyes, as if he suspected me of haying led him 
into an ambush. I sha’n’t invite him a second time. He 
never contradicted me once and he disagreed with every 
word that I said — which was simply unendurable.” 

Yet before the evening was over there was one point 
upon which Tristram (if he had known it) was in complete 
accord with Jacob. He had begged that he might not be 
called upon to appear at a dinner-party; so only Bertie 
Cunningham had been asked to meet him, and it was not 
Bertie Cunningham’s privilege to find favor in the eyes of 
the great artist. “ That is a dangerous fellow,” Tristram 
soliloquized, as he walked home, with his shaggy head sunk 
upon his breast, and his hands thrust deep into the pockets 
of his loose overcoat — “a dangerous fellow! Too young, 
too good-looking, too devil-may-care. I didn’t half like 
his ways of going on, and I didn’t like her familiarity with 
him either. Not that she means any harm, God bless her! 
Whoever does mean any harm when that kind of thing be- 
gins? What on earth is her husband about? Is he blind, 
or indifferent, or a fool, I wonder? I wish she had a child! 
I wish it were possible to warn people when they are skating 
on thin ice without the certainty of making them go ahead 
harder than ever!” But presently he smiled in his beard 
and raised his head a little. “ After all, if she sees a little 
more of that pretty youth, she will find out that he .is not 
what she is seeking for; it is her destiny to be alone— 
* Marchons toujours , n’arrivons pas /’ ” he muttered, as 
he let himself into his own solitary dwelling. 


218 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A PEW WORDS FROM LADY CHATTERTON. 

If there is no rule without an exception, a fortiori there 
can be no exception without a rule. The fact, therefore, 
that Captain Cunningham was repeatedly congratulated 
upon his exceptional good fortune in being able to spend 
the best part of his time in London while he was still quar- 
tered at Windsor, should be sufficient to show that his 
brother-officers were not equally favored, and to clear his 
battalion from a hasty charge of ornamental idleness. No‘t, 
of course, that any such accusation 'would ever be made, 
except by quite an ignorant person; but in these days there 
are so many ignorant and officious persons about — persons 
who write to the papers, and ask questions in the House 
of Commons, and get royal commissions appointed, and 
generally harry and distress all who bear a shred of respon- 
sibility, till a poor overgrown nation is in danger of being 
driven to ruin by sheer terror of them — that it seems best 
to state, for the benefit of any such persons into whose 
hands these pages may fall, that officers in the Guards are 
not always permitted to neglect their duties, and that 
Captain CunninghanCs leisure was due to a lingering lame- 
ness, of which, perhaps, he made the most. • 

However, if the ignorant and officious ones had contented 
themselves with making ill-natured remarks about the 
branch of the service to which he belonged, nobody would 
have been very much the worse; but unfortunately, they 
— or a section of them — took it into their heads to make 
remarks of another and a more personal kind about him, 
and not about him alone. When two young people (or 
even middle-aged people, for that matter) walk together, 
talk together, and sit out dances together perpetually, their 
conduct is pretty sure to call forth comments which are not 
likely to err on the side of excessive charity. It would be 
too much to say that Mrs. Herbert had made enemies since 
her arrival in London; but she was too beautiful, too rich, 
and too generally popular to escape detraction, and plenty 
of ladies were ready to giggle spitefully and whisper in- 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


219 


sinuations behind their fans when they saw her always 
closely attended by the same person. 

Bertie ought to have known that this would be so, and 
possibly he did know it; but there must be limits to every- 
body's self-denial. He adhered strictly to his resolutions; 
he kept his hopeless passion to himself; twenty times a day 
he swallowed down indiscreet words which trembled upon 
his lips; but to renounce Hope's- society altogether was a 
flight of heroism too lofty for him. What he would have 
been very glad to renounce was the society of Mrs. Pier- 
point, and indeed, by dint of nimble dodging and doubling, 
he did contrive to accomplish this for a considerable time ; 
but eventually, as was to be expected, that determined 
lady caught him and pinned him down while she upbraided 
him in no measured terms. 

“ So much for your promises!" she exclaimed, in con- 
clusion. “ Another time I shall know better than to be- 
lieve you." 

“ Now I should just like to know what promise I have 
broken," said Bertie, turning at bay. “I deny that I 
have broken anything, except my leg; and that I didn't do 
on purpose. Is it my fault if Miss Herbert has gone ofl to 
Yorkshire to bury an old woman who declines to die?" 

“ You ought to have followed her. " 

“ Mrs. Pierpoint, you have no sense of decency. Would 
you have me thrust myself into the house of a dying lady 
whom I have never even seen, and attack her niece with 
my importunate offers of marriage under her very nose?" 

“If you were in love with Carry, that is exactly what 
you would do, and you know it." 

“ But as I am not in love with Carry — " 

“ Oh, you choose to say that, but in reality you care just 
as much for her as you do for anybody. If you really 
cared for Mrs. Herbert, for instance, you would not. go on 
as you have been doing for the last few weeks. " ’ 

“ I don't know what you mean," said Bertie placidly. 

“ I suppose not; my meaning is so obscure, isn't it? 
After all, I presume that she is aware of what she is about. 
Down in the country I liked her; I thought she seemed to 
be an innocent, inexperienced kind of woman. But now I 
am afraid she is no better than her neighbors. I don't 
meary to say that that is any excuse for you. " 

v You may say what you like about me," returned 


220 


a bachelor's blunder. 


Bertie; “ but I won't listen to any abuse of her. You are 
quite wrong about her; she doesn't know the meaning of 
the word flirtation, and she has no more flirted with me 
tha™ you have. Of course a man mustn't venture to make 
a ± nd of a woman. Idiotic things are always said about 
them; we all know that. But 1 must say I didn't expect 
to hear such things from you . " 

“ Do you really wish me to understand that you have no 
other feeling than friendship for Mrs. Herbert?" 

“ Certainly not; I have never tried to conceal the truth 
from you. I love her, and I loved her before she married, 
as you know; but you are the only person who does know 
it. I have never breathed a hint of it to her; though it is 
easy to see that her marriage has turned out unhappily, 
just as I told you it would. Herbert neglects her — " 

“ And you try to make up for this neglect by your disin- 
terested friendship? What an excellent plan! If I am 
idiotic, as you politely insinuate, I think I know two peo- 
ple, not to say three, who are at least as much so. You 
will all have to suffer for it some day, if that is any com- 
fort. I have a great mind to speak to Mrs. Herbert." 

“ Once upon a time," observed Bertie, “ Lady Chatter- 
ton, in the overflowing kindness of her heart, thought it 
right to warn you that, unless you dropped your humble 
servant, your reputation would suffer. How grateful you 
were to her! And how promptly you acted upon her ad- 
vice! Do you remember that little episode?" 

. “ I remember, it quite well," answered Mrs. Pierpoint, 
good-humoredly. “ Also. I remember the Exhibition of 
1851, and the Duke of Wellington's funeral. You and 
Mrs. Herbert, I should say, can hardly remember the 
Prince of Wales' wedding. The cases, you see, are not 
arallel." 



“ You were ready to bite old Chatty's head off, all the 
same," said Bertie. 

This was undeniable; and Mrs. Pierpoint, who was a 
very sensible woman, could not but admit that any inter- 
ference on her part was unlikely to be attended with happy 
results. She sighed, and said to herself that she had better 
hold her tongue. “ And yet," she thought, ^ somebody 
ought to give her a hint." 

Somebody was going to give her a hint. Someopdy is 
always ready to undertake these unpleasant tasks, and on 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


221 


this occasion the duty was about to be assumed by no less 
a person than Lady Chatterton herself. Lady Chatter- 
ton, in her own estimation, as well as in that of the majority 
of her acquaintances, was a very great person indeed; and 
it may be added that the distinguished position which she 
occupied in society was due solely to her personal qualities. 
Of good family by birth, but belonging by marriage only to 
the lowest rank in the peerage, she had neither great 
wealth, nor commanding talents, nor even good manners; 
so that to a superficial observer, it might seem as though 
she should have had some difficulty in making her house 
one of the most exclusive in London, and her good word 
eagerly sought after by all who wished to penetrate into the 
highest circles. It is true that what is rare is sure to be 
prized, and Lady Chatterton’ s good words were rare enough 
in all conscience; but it was to her self-assertion that she 
owed the plenitude of her power. Courage she must un- 
doubtedly have had; for there are very few people in the 
world who would dare to utter speeches half as rude as those 
which she was accustomed to fling right and left of her, 
with a twitch of her nose and a twinkle of her little color- 
less eyes. Those sayings of hers were retailed everywhere 
as capital jokes, although they were not particularly smart, 
and certainly not witty. Her successes were achieved by 
straight, knock-down blows, at which everybody laughed. 
The recipients of them often joined in the laughter, while 
inwardly wincing and trembling. It was agreed that old 
Chatty Was a privileged person, whose attacks might be 
submitted to without loss of self-respect. Most people 
hated her; but as nearly all also feared her, she was seldom 
paid back in her own coin, and very good care was taken 
not to call her “ old Chatty ” when there was any danger 
of her sharp ears overhearing the nickname. 

This formidable lady had deigned to bestow a good deal 
,of notice upon Mrs. Herbert. She was connected by an- 
cient ties of friendship with Lady Jane Lefroy, who lived in 
abject terror of her, and she had said to her old friend: 
“ Bring that niece of yours to see me. Isn’t she the girl 
whom you cut out of her property, and then tried to start 
in life as a professional artist?” 

Poor Lady Jane protested indignantly against this cruel 
calumny, but did as she was ordered; and Lady Chatterton 
was so kind as to say to Hope: “ I think you will do. Of 


222 


A bachelor's blunder. 


course you are aware that you are very handsome; but you 
do not appear to be conceited, and you conduct yourself 
with propriety, which is more than can be said for most of 
the young married women whom I meet nowadays." And 
then she sent her an invitation to a ball, followed by one 
to a dinner-party, at which a member of the royal family 
was present. 

But these events had occurred early in the season. At a 
later period. Lady Chatterton saw reason to doubt whether 
the propriety of Mrs. Herbert's conduct had been main- 
tained; and, as she had made herself to some extent re- 
sponsible for the young bride, it was necessary that further 
inquiries should be instituted, and displeasure manifested 
should these prove unsatisfactory. One morning, there- 
fore, Hope received the following note, scrawled upon a 
rather dirty half-sheet of paper: 

“ Dear Mrs. Herbert, — If you are doing nothing 
particular to-morrow, come to luncheon here at two 
o'clock. I h&ve something to say to you. Yours truly, 

“ Isabella Chatterton." 

Hope, having no other engagement, accepted this un- 
ceremonious invitation, little imagining why she had been 
sent for. Lady Chatterton lived in a large house in Bel- 
grave Square; she had a husband wLo was not a very im- 
portant personage, and sons and daughters who were not 
very important either. Hope found quite a large assem- 
blage of them in the drawing-room when she entered, to- 
gether with sundry other ladies and gentlemen to whom 
she was not introduced. Her hostess offered her a rigid 
hand, by way of greeting, and breathed out “ How do you 
do?" in a fashion peculiar to herself — a sort of wheeze, ac- 
companied by a glassy stare over the head of the person 
addressed. It was probably designed to check familiarity, 
and was indeed adapted to the achievement of that end. 
Plain-featured Miss Chatterton sidled up to the new-comer, 
and engaged her in conversation. It struck Hope that she 
wore an air of commiseration for which there was no osten- 
sible cause. 

Presently the whole party moved down-stairs to the din- 
ing-room, where a good deal of talk went on which was not 
very interesting to Hope, relating, as it did, to the domestic 
affairs of people whom she knew only by name. Judging 


A BACHELOR^ BLUNDER. 


223 


by the remarks made about them, the domestic affairs of 
these unfortunates had not been managed with conspicuous 
success. They either had made, or were about to make, 
foolish marriages; they had been living far beyond their 
incomes, and were upon the verge of a smash; some of 
them> apparently, had got into still worse scrapes. The 
rather insignificant-looking, and dowdily dressed old lady 
at the head, of the table contributed the principal items to 
this sum of tittle-tattle. She had a twitch in her face 
which increased when she spoke, and which gave her some- 
thing of the appearance of a bull-terrier about to pounce 
upon a rat. Upon more than one of the company she did 
pounce suddenly and without provocation, causing them to 
pull wry faces; for, to do her justice, she was not a back- 
biter in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but was always 
ready to say as much evil of her friends in their presence 
as in their absence. Of Hope she took no notice at all, 
until luncheon was over, when she stopped her in the hall, 
saying: “ Come in here, please; I want to speak to you;” 
and so led the way into a small library on the ground-floor. 
What was coming next Hope had no notion; but she could 
not help being amused at the coolness of her entertainer, 
who, after addressing her as if she had been a refractory 
house-maid, merely pointed to a chair, and proceeded to 
open and read some letters which were lying on the table. 
The old lady did not hurry herself. She perused her let- 
ters, deliberately sat down and answered one of them, and 
then, as if she had suddenly recollected that there was 
somebody in the room, said: “ Oh, Mrs. Herbert, yes. 
Well, Mrs. Herbert, I am sorry to say that I have heard 
some disagreeable reports about you. 99 

“I am sorry, too,” answered Hope, laughing a little; 
“ but if they are disagreeable, perhaps you had better not 
repeat them to me.” 

Lady Chatterton glanced at her with a momentary curi- 
osity. She was not accustomed to be met in that way. 
“ But I must repeat them to you,” she said. “ That was 
why I told you to come here to-day, you know . 9 3 

“ Told me to come?” echoed Hope. 

“ Yes; I thought it would be kind to put you on your 
guard. . You evidently know nothing of the world, and 
poor Jane Lefroy is far too great a fool to be of any use to 
you. I dare say you understand what I am alluding to.” 


224 


a bachelor's blunder. 


“ Not in the least/' answered Hope, staring. 

“ Oh! Well, I am told, and, indeed, I myself have 
noticed, that you are behaving foolishly with a Captain 
Cunningham. I know something of the young man, and 
what I know is by no means to his advantage; so that you 
would be wise, in any case, to drop his acquaintance. Of 
course, now that you and he have made yourselves talked 
about, you must give him his dismissal ait once. That is, 
if you wish to keep your place in society, as I presume that 
you do." 

Hope rose and drew herself up to her full height, which 
was several inches above that of her accuser. “ You may 
have meant well, Lady Chatterton," she said, with a slight 
tremor in her voice, which she was unable to control; “ but 
I wish you had not thought fit to speak to me in this way. 
Captain Cunningham is an intimate friend of mine and of 
my husband's; and I certainly shall not dream of dropping 
his acquaintance because people have noticed that he and I 
are often together. And I do not believe that any one 
whose good opinion is worth having suspects me of — of — 
what you hint at. " 

Lady Chatterton did not seem to be offended. “ Oh," 
she returned, with a sniff, and a twitch of her nose, “ it is 
no use to take up that tone: you aren't in a position to do 
it. I grant you that if you were a great swell you might 
set the world at defiance to a certain extent, though I think 
that would be an undesirable and immoral proceeding even 
then; but you see you are not a great swell, and no-one is 
likely to have mercy upon you — especially as you are so 
handsome. In point of fact, you will have to drop the 
man or be dropped yourself; there is no alternative. You 
may take my word for that, and I need hardly tell you that 
I have no motive but your own good for saying so. " 

The calm impudence of this speech was too much for 
Hope's dignity. “ Then, Lady Chatterton," said she, 
“ pray set a good example to the rest of the world by being 
the first to drop me. I am sure I am neither moral enough 
nor ‘ swell ' enough to be fit for your society." 

And with that she hastily left the room and the house, 
and was in her carriage — which, luckily, was waiting for 
her — before Lady Chatterton had recovered from the amaze- 
ment naturally aroused by so much audacity. 

It was all very well to assume an air of audacity in Lady 


A bachelor's blunder. 225 

Chatterton 's presence, but when that stimulus had been 
removed a reaction set in, and Hope felt much more 
ashamed than angry. In her eyes it was a terrible and dis- 
graceful thing to be talked about as, according to that 
malignant old woman, people were talking about her; nor 
was conscious innocence quite enough to console her. She 
did not know whether to believe the statement or not, and, 
in her anxiety for more trustworthy information she told 
the coachman to drive to Eaton Square. “If it is true. 
Aunt Jane will know of it," she thought. 

Lady Jane, who was at home and alone, threw up her 
hands in dismay when her niece somewhat incoherently de- 
scribed the scene which had just taken place. 

“ My dear!" she exclaimed,, in accents of the most 
poignant distress, “ how could you be so insane! To quar- 
rel with Lady Chatterton, of all people in the world! You 
have made an enemy of her for life; she never forgives and 
never forgets. " 

“ Is it my quarreling with Lady Chatterton that seems 
to you the important thing?" asked Hope, with a touch of 
scorn. “ It doesn't seem so to me. What I want you to 
tell me is whether she was speaking the truth." 

“ Oh, well,- perhaps she was; we can talk about that 
presently. I don't think you at all realize what you have 
done. Hope, dear, would you — could you — would you 
very much mind — going back and begging her pardon?" 

Hope burst out laughing and then stopped abruptly. 
“ I would rather be flayed alive," she said. 

C{ Ah, my dear, that is so foolish — such mistaken pride! 
When we have done wrong, we ought not to be above ac- 
knowledging it. And you will be flayed alive — at least, it 
comes to much the same thing. You little know what that 
woman is! There is nothing so bad that she will hesitate 
to say it about you, after this." 

“ Let her say anything and everything that she likes. 
Don't you understand, Aunt Jane, that it is a matter of 
complete indifference to me what she may say?" 

“ But I thought you came here because you were not in- 
different to what people say?" observed Lady Jane, with 
some plausibility. 

Hope bit her lips. “ Well," she resumed, after a pause, 
“ do people say that — that — I am too much with Captain 

Cunningham?" 


226 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


“ If you ask me, I am afraid I must answer that they 
do. I had even thought of speaking a word or two to you 
about it; only you are so — so — ” 

“ Pig-headed?” 

“ No — touchy. You must admit that you are rather 
touchy, Hope, and rather self-confident too. You always 
think that you know best, but at your age it is impossible 
that you should know best; and really it is neither prudent 
nor becoming to flirt so openly — ” 

“ Do you believe that I ever flirted with Captain Cun- 
ningham, Aunt Jane?” interrupted Hope, her eyes growing 
large with indignation. 

Lady Jane was a kind-hearted woman, after her own 
limited, selfish fashion. She was fond of her niece and 
even proud of her, feeling that she had done credit to the 
family by her marriage. 

. “ No, dear,” she answered gently; “ not if you tell me 
that you didn’t. But you see, it did look rather like it. I 
blame Dick a good deal . 99 

“ Dick is not in the least to blame,” returned Hope 
quickly. “ He doesn’t have horrid thoughts and suspi- 
cions. If anybody is to be blamed, I suppose I am the one : 
I ought to have known that anything is believed rather 
than the truth.” 

Lady Jane sighed and rubbed her hook-nose. “ Unhap- 
pily, that is the case,” she agreed. “ And since it is so,” 
she added, persuasively, “ don’t you think you owe Lady 
Chatterton an apology for your rudeness?”' 

But as Hope could by no means be brought to see her 
duty in this light, what did Lady Jane do, after dismissing 
her niece with some kindly words of caution and comfort, 
but order her carriage and drive off post-haste to Belgrave 
Square to cast herself at the feet of her friend and enemy. 
The reception that she met with was at once a joy and an 
astonishment to her. 

“ My good Jane,” Lady Chatterton said, “ if Mrs. Her- 
bert were as great a coward as you are, I should certainly 
cut her; but, luckily for herself, she has plenty of spirit, 
and I like her all the better for it. Why you people put 
up with my insolence I can’t imagine. I shouldn’t if I 
were in your shoes; but probably you get no more than you 
deserve. Of course you will understand that I can ’t con- 
tinue to know your niece unless she behaves herself: there 


A bachelor's blunder. 


22 7 


have been far too many of these scandals of late years. 
But I am quite willing to let her have a second trial. ” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A FEW WORDS FROM MR. LEFROY. 

By a coincidence not more strange than one of those 
which so frequently lead two learned persons, living hun- 
dreds of miles apart, to hit upon the same invention at the 
same moment, Dick Herbert was being warned of the dan- 
ger that threatened his domestic peace even while his wife 
was being similarly admonished. The slow, steady march 
of Science brings those who dog her steps to a point at 
which some fresh discovery is inevitable; the bud, growing 
and swelling by imperceptible degrees, at length bursts 
suddenly into the blossom; and the proof that Captain 
Cunningham's alleged flirtation with Mrs. Herbert had ex- 
cited genuine scandal is that it ended, not only by moving 
a gossiping old woman like Lady Chatterton to remon- 
strate, but by causing so tolerant a philosopher as Mr. Le- 
froy to feel that he must either speak to one of the parties 
concerned, or burst, like the bud. 

To the first of these he was sure that it would be^useless 
as well as undignified to speak; to the second it would be 
painful and perhaps also productive of ill-feeling — for there 
is never any telling in what spirit a woman will receive 
rational counsel; but the third, though odd in some ways, 
was at least a man of the world and would not be likely to 
resent a word in season. When, therefore Mr. Lefroy 
chanced upon Dick Herbert, lunching all by himself in the 
club to which they both belonged, it seemed the best of 
good policy to sit down beside him and lead gently up to a 
delicate subject. The difficulty was that Herbert was so 
abominably matter-of-fact and straightforward. Diplomacy 
was thrown away upon him, and even if he did understand 
what you were driving at, he would never admit as much 
until you had expressed your meaning in unequivocal lan- 
guage. Thus, after an hour of fruitless fencing and hint- 
ing, Mr. Lefroy, who by this time had accompanied his vic- 
tim upstairs to the smoking-room, was forced to come to 
the point. 


228 


A bachelor's blunder. 


“ You and I are old friends, Herbert," lie began, “ and 
I am sure you won't take offense at what I am going to 
say. Don't you think that young fellow Cunningham is 
rather too often at your house?'' 

Dick blew a cloud of smoke, watched it drift upward, 
and then answered succinctly, “ Ho." 

“ Well," rejoined Mr. Lefroy, “a little provoked by 
this phlegmatic reception of his attack, “ other people think 
so, I can tell you." 

“ Keally?" 

“ Yes, really. How I am not given to interfering with 
my neighbors — " 

“ H'm!— I don't know," interpolated Dick; “ I should 
have said you were rather inclined to be fussy and officious. 
Excuse my bluntness. " 

Good-natured Mr. Lefroy burst out laughing. “That 
isn't fair, Herbert, and you know it isn't," he returned. 
“ Even the prime minister admits that I don't waste the 
time of the House. I never speak unless I have a good 
reason, and I say my little say briefly." 

“ Well, you have asked me briefly whether I .don't think 
that Cunningham is too often at my house, and I have an- 
swered briefly that I don't. Doesn't that close the incident, 
as they say in the French Chamber?" 

“ Hot quite; because, as I told you just now, other peo- 
ple think so, though you may not." 

“ 1 am not going to make myself responsible for the vain 
imaginings of other people." 

“ The question is whether they are vain. Of course I 
have no right to catechise you." 

“ Hone whatever. " 

“ Oh, well, if you meet me in that way, I had better hold 
my tongue. I thought it would be friendly to try^and 
open your eyes, that was all. If you like your wife's char- 
acter to be taken away by a lot of old pussy-cats, there's 
no more to be said. " 

Dick's face changed slightly. He turned his head, and 
looked full at his interlocutor: 

“ Pussy-cats must be allowed to spit," he said, “ there's 
no way of stopping them that I know of. But if you will 
tell me the name of any man who has taken my wife's 
character away. I'll undertake to stop his mouth." 

“That's absurd," returned Mr. Lefroy, with an impa- 


A bachelor's blunder. 


229 


tient gesture. “ You can't thrash half the men of your 
acquaintance, and if you did you would only make matters 
worse. Qui s’ excuse s’ accuse, and the more dust you kick 
up about an affair of that sort the dirtier you are apt to 
make your own coat. " 

“ Perhaps you are right/' said Dick, placidly. “ I'll do 
nothing then." 

“ Upon my word, Herbert," exclaimed Mr. Lefroy, with 
a vexed laugh, “ you are the most extraordinary fellow I 
ever met! Hang me if I understand you!" 

“I doubt whether you do," observed Dick. “If you 
think that I am the kind of man to keep my wife under 
lock and key, you certainly don't understand me. * ' 

“ My dear fellow, I never meant to suggest such strong 
measures; but surely you might give Cunningham a hint 
that his room would be more welcome than his company 
just at present. Or you might quietly shunt him, without 
saying a word." 

“ Thanks; that is excellent advice, no doubt; but it 
wouldn't quite suit me to follow it. I prefer to be open 
and above-board. If I thought that my wife was seeing 
too much of Cunningham, I should tell her what I thought. 
As I don't happen to think so, I shall not tell her any such 
thing. It's as simple a matter as that, you see." 

Mr. Lefroy shoot bis head. “ ^one so blind as those 
who won't see," he thought to himself, but refrained from 
giving verbal expression to this sentiment. Presently Dick, 
who had been reclining upon a couple of chairs, swung his 
long legs to the ground, assumed a more upright attitude, 
and laughed. “ Don't look so injured, Lefroy," said he; 
“ it's all right. You meant to do me a good turn; but it 
would be no earthly use for you and me to discuss ques- 
tions of this kind together, because our point of view isn't 
the same. You have a pretty good general opinion of your 
fellow-creatures; you think they aren't a bad lot, taking 
them all round; only you wouldn't trust them much fur- 
ther than you could see them. >Yell, that's one system; 
mine is different. I either trust ^people entirely or not at 
all — indeed, I can't very well help going upon that plan — - 
and my wife is a person whom I trust entirely. Therefore 
it isn't likely that I should be afraid of her becoming too 
fond of another man." 

Mr. Lefroy attempted to explain. Distrust of his niece 


230 


A bachelor's blunder. 


was quite the last thing in the world that he had intended 
to imply. He believed in her implicitly; but at the same 
time it was surely no insult to her to suggest that she 
was capable of doing imprudent things. Strangers could 
not be expected to know that she was as innocent as a 
child; scandal was more easily stirred up than laid; it was 
always unwise to defy the dowagers, etc., etc. Dick did 
not wait to hear the end of the harangue, but pushed his 
hat to the back of his head, stuck his umbrella under his 
arm as his habit was, and lounged unceremoniously down- 
stairs to the entrance of the club, where he stood for a few 
minutes, gazing down St. James's Street and ruminating. 

By and by Mr. Francis, stepping briskly past, espied 
him, and called out: “ Hullo, Herbert! what's the latest 
news of you?" 

Dick descended to the pavement, hooked his arm into 
that of his friend, and accompanied him a few paces along 
the street. “ Francis," said he, “ I'm a little bit troubled 
in my mind. " 

‘ 4 That does not surprise me," thought Mr. Francis to 
himself; but his only articulate comment was “Oh!" 

“ Yes; I'm not sure that I haven't made rather an ass 
of myself." 

“ Hor am I," thought Mr. Francis, as before. “ Out 
with it, old man!" he said aloud, encouragingly. 

At the top of the street Dick came to a standstill, ob- 
structing thetraffic, while he held his friend at arm's-length 
and stared at him fixedly. “ On second thoughts," said 
he, with much deliberation, “ I won't come out with it. 
Ho; not yet awhile — even to you. Some day, perhaps. I'll 
tell you what I was going to say. Good-bye." 

And with that he turned, plunged across Piccadilly, and 
made straight for home. 

“ Poor old fellow!" soliloquized Mr. Francis, as he gazed 
after Dick's retreating form. “ He might as well have re- 
lieved himself by making a full confession, for it’s easy 
enough to guess his secret. Hot that I could give him 
much consolation. What has happened to him was morally 
bound to happen, and he has no one to thank for it but 
himself. All the same, I do hope and trust that that sweet 
youth will soon get tired of Mrs. Herbert, and throw her 
over for somebody else. Hothing would afford me keener 
satisfaction than to see her going about with a pale face and 


A bachelor’s blunder. 231 

all the outward signs of a broken heart.” With which 
vindictive sentiment Mr. Francis went his way. 

Dick, meanwhile, was making long strides toward Bru- 
ton Street. As chance would have it, he reached his house 
at the very moment when Hope, fresh from her interview 
with Lady J ane, was passing through the door-way. She 
was slightly flushed, and the hand which she laid upon her 
husband *s arm trembled a little. “ Dick,” she said as 
they ascended the stairs together, “ do you like London?” 

“Hate it!” answered Dick, laconically. “At least,” 
he added, thinking that this statement required some quali- 
fication, “ I don’t mind it for a bit, you know. That is, I 
am quite contented to be here, so long as you are amusing 
yourself.” 

“ I am not amusing myself!” cried Hope, vehemently; 
“ I have had more than enough of London life; I am 
utterly sick of the whole thing! Dick,” she added persua- 
sively, after a moment, “ suppose we were to go home at 
once?” 

“ What — back to Farndon?” asked Dick, somewhat 
startled > 

“ Why not, if we are both tired of this?” 

“ And how about all your engagements?” 

“Oh, I don’t think we need trouble ourselves about 
them. We can’t be expected to keep engagements when 
we have left London. ” 

“No; only it is usual to give some reason for disappear- 
ing in such a hurry.” 

By this time Dick was standing with his back against the 
mantel-piece in the back drawing-room, which had been con- 
verted into a sort of boudoir for Mrs. Herbert’s especial use, 
and she was sitting on a low chair beside him. “ Have you 
any particular reason for wishing to be ofi?” he asked, 
suddenly looking her full in the face. 

Hope’s eyelids dropped under his inquiring gaze, and she 
felt the color mounting into her cheeks. She had fully in- 
tended to tell him all that Lady Chatterton and Lady Jane 
had said to her; but now that it had come to the point, her 
courage failed her and she began to doubt the wisdom of 
such a course. She was quite uncertain as to how he would 
take the announcement that an unkind construction had 
been placed upon her intimacy with Bertie Cunningham. 
In many respects Dick was a riddle to her, and she some- 


232 


a bachelor's blunder. 


times fancied that beneath that nonchalant exterior there 
might lurk a capacity for wrath which it would be decided- 
ly unpleasant to arouse. That he would blame her she 
did not believe; for he must know that she was incapable 
of the conduct attributed to her, and he certainly did not 
care enough about her to be jealous; but it was likely 
enough that he would blame Bertie and that there would 
be- a quarrel —perhaps a scene. And then of course the 
next thing would be that Carry would hear of what had 
happened; and so troubles without end would arise. 

It was the rapid passage of these thoughts through her 
mind that caused her to blush, lower her eyes, and finally 
answer: 44 I should like a little rest after all this gayety. 
Isn't that reason enough?" 

She stole a quick glance at her husband after making this 
evasive speech, and she thought that something like a look 
of disappointment came over his face; but it was gone in an 
instant, and if he detected the evasion he forbore to remark 
•upon it. 

44 That is reason enough for me," he replied tranquilly. 
44 I don't know whether it will quite satisfy your friends; 
but perhaps they may be allowed to remain dissatisfied. 
When would you like to go?" 

44 I could be ready to-morrow," answered Hope. The 
truth was that she was very anxious to escape without see- 
ing Bertie again. 

Dick smiled slightly. 44 1 think we had better not make 
a positive stampede," he said. 44 This is Thursday; sup- 
pose we leave on Monday? That would give us time to 
mention to one or two people that we felt the want of a 
change." 

Hope could not demur to so reasonable a proposal; and 
presently Dick added: 44 It will suit me very well to get 
away a little sooner than I had expected. I rather want to 
run down to Portsmouth and have a look at the yacht." 

44 Might I go with you?" asked Hope, timidly. 44 I have 
never seen your yacht, you know, and I think I should en- 
joy a short cruise. If I turned out a disgracefully bad 
Bailor, you could easily put me on shore somewhere and 
send me home. " 

44 Oh, you couldn't go on board now," answered Dick; 
44 she's up on the mud. I only wanted to see about fitting 
out, and I doubt whether she can be ready for sea much 


233 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 

under a month or six weeks. Later on, if you cared to go 
to some of the regattas — But I thought you hated yacht- 
ing.” 

Hope well remembered having told him so, and it struck 
her that he was not particularly enchanted at her having 
changed her mind. “ I haven’t had much experience of 
it,” she answered, rather coldly; “ but I certainly didn’t 
enjoy the little that I had. After all, I think I prefer dry 
land.” 

Then she rose and left the room, taking a somewhat 
heavy heart upstairs with her. She was beginning to find 
her husband’s good-natured toleration almost unendurable. 
She had no right to expect, and did not expect, love from 
hirfi; but surely this was not the friendship that he had 
promised her! His one wish seemed to be to see as little as 
possible of her. Evidently she was destined to live her life 
out in solitude, and now she had been deprived of one of 
her few friends; for she felt that, after what she had heard 
that day, there could be no renewal of the intimacy which 
she had found so pleasant. Indeed, it was chiefly on that 
account that she was desirous of leaving London as soon as 
might be. An explanation with Bertie must be avoided, if 
possible; since it was not likely that he would believe in the 
excuse which her husband had appeared to find quite satis- 
factory. No doubt it was a good thing that Dick had not 
guessed the truth; yet she could not help feeling exasperated 
with him for failing to guess it. 

But the next morning fortune provided Mr. and Mrs. 
Herbert with a plausible pretext for withdrawal, and relieved 
them of the necessity of concocting a statement which cer- 
tainly would not have taken in Lady Chatterton for one 
moment. 

“ Hullo!” exclaimed Dick, after reading the first words 
of a letter which he found upon the breakfast-table ; ‘ ‘ here’s 
poor old Aunt Anne gone olf at last. Carry thinks I had 
better go down for the funeral, and proposes to return with 
me. I’ll bring her back to Farndon, of course. She won’t 
care about London if she can’t go out, and it wouldn’t be 
decent for her to show herself at -parties just now — es- 
pecially if she comes into the property. ’ ’ 

“ Nor would it be decent for us,” observed Hope, seiz- 
ing one point of the news promptly. 


334 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


“ Hardly, perhaps. I wonder whether the old lady hab 
left everything to Carry.” 

“ Supposing that she has,” Hope asked, a second point 
presenting itself to her, “ would Carry have to live in York- 
shire, do you think?” 

Dick laughed. “I’m sure I don’t know,” he replied: 
“ I doubt whether she would take up her abode there all 
alone. To be sure, she might find some one to share it 
with her. Do you think—” He broke off, and looked 
across the table at his wife, who answered the question 
which he had not asked. 

“ Oh, most likely,” she said. “ The additional property 
ought to turn the scale, and we may expect the wedding to 
take place as soon as the days of mourning are at an end. 
Poor Captain Cunningham!” 

Dick laughed again; but his laughter was not very hearty. 
“ I don’t know why you should call him ‘ poor Captain 
Cunningham,’ ” he remarked. 

“ Because he is poor. If he were not poor there would 
be no wedding, would there?” Then, feeling rather 
ashamed of this display of acrimony, she added: “.After all, 
I dare say they will be as happy as most people. Why 
should they not be?” 

“ Why not, indeed?” returned Dick, getting up. “ One 
of them wishes for the marriage; the other, I suppose, 
doesn’t much mind it; so it is ail in accordance with cus- 
tom and precedent.” 

There was an unusual ring of bitterness in his words; 
and Hope, thinking them oyer, after he had left the room, 
wondered what particular precedent he had had in his 
mind when he spoke. Was he accusing her of having 
wished to marry him? Or did he mean that it was he who 
had wished to marry her, and that she was the one who had 
not “ much minded ”? The latter interpretation was the 
more agreeable, and the facts of the case supported it; but 
unfortunately there was some difficulty in reconciling it 
with Dick’s present rule of conduct, which seemed to be 
simply to go his own way and let liis wife go hers. 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


235 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

BERTIE MAKES A GREAT MISTAKE. 

When Lady Chatterton heard that Mr. and Mrs. Her- 
bert had left London, she nodded her head approvingly, 
and meeting Lady Jane Lefroy at a party that night, con- 
gratulated her in a few well-chosen words upon her niece’s 
tact and common sense. 

“ Quite the right thing to do,” she was so obliging as to 
say. “ There* are fifty ways of getting out of most scrapes; 
but the wisest of all is to make a bolt for it. Not over and 
above dignified, perhaps, but very effectual; and, quite be- 
tween ourselves, I can’t wonder that Mrs. Herbert should 
have taken to her heels, if she had begun making compari- 
sons between Captain Cunningham and that lantern-jawed 
husband of hers. It was judicious to have an excuse, too. 
Let me see; they killed some apocryphal relative, didn’t 
they?” 

“ Indeed, no!” answered Lady Jane, plucking up a lit- 
tle courage; “ not an apocryphal relative at all, but a gen- 
uine aunt by marriage, whom nobody killed, and who died 
in her bed, leaving all that she possessed to Hick’s sister. 
And I trust you will not think, or even say, that Hope ran 
away from Captain Cunningham, because that is very far 
from the truth. In reality, she will be nearer to him at 
Farndon than here, as he is quartered at Windsor.” 

Lady Chatterton grinned. “ 4 Even say ’ is not so bad,” 
she remarked; “you are developing a talent for repartee. 
But you need not be alarmed; didn’t I tell you that I 
rather liked your niece? I shall say nothing but good of 
her, and if she had killed and eaten her aunt by marriage 
it would have been quite the same thing to me. As for 
her being near Captain Cunningham in the country, that 
is her affair and her husband’s, not mine. The law doesn’t 
forbid a man to be drunk and disorderly in his own house, 
and the morals of society are not affected by what takes 
place within the limits of your own park palings. ” And, 
having given this incidental definition of social ethics. Lady 
Chatterton passed on, with a twitch of her nose and a sniff. 

It must be admitted that if Hope’s object was to avoid 


238 A BACHELOR'S' BLENDER. 

meeting Bertie Cunningham, she was scarcely likely to at- 
tain that purpose by a move from Bruton Street to Farn- 
don Court; but in truth it was rather the scrutiny of Lady 
Chatterton and other such persons that she longed to be 
delivered from. She had been deeply pained and angered 
by the revelation which had been made to her, and, for the 
time being, felt sickened with the whole fashionable world. 
She had enjoyed herself among these people; they had been 
kind to her and had made much of her, and she had be- 
lieved a large proportion of them to be really her friends. 
Yet it seemed that, all the time, they had been busily cir- 
culating the cruelest rumors about her that can be circu- 
lated about a woman. She was glad to turn. her back upon 
them and to shake the dust of their city off her feet. Bertie 
Cunningham she did not blame, being convinced that he 
was as innocent as herself; but, knowing that their future 
intercourse must be more or less constrained, she was not 
anxious to receive him, and trusted that his engagements 
would prevent him from showing his face at Farndon be- 
fore the end of the season, at least. 

But it is needless to say that in. this expectation she was 
disappointed. She had not been long at home when, look- 
ing out from an upper window one fine afternoon, she de- 
scried Captain Cunningham riding across the park, and as 
she watched him passing from sunlight into shade and back 
into the sunlight again, it comforted her to reflect that she 
could not be called upon to grant him a private interview. 
In the presence of a third person he would hardly, she 
thought, display a troublesome curiosity as to the cause of 
her change of residence; and even if he did, her half- 
mourning costume aiid the deeper trappings and garb of 
woe worn by Carry would be a sufficient answer to him. 
For Carry had returned, richer by the possession of a com- 
modious mansion and several thousand acres of Yorkshire 
soil, together with a gobdly sum of hard cash in the three 
per cents. ; and Carry was at that moment seated in the 
drawing-room, from the windows of which apartment she, 
too, had detected Captain Cunningham's approach. 

“ Perhaps he has not come to see me after all," Hope 
thought, as she slowly descended the stairs; and this im- 
pression was confirmed when she entered the drawing-room 
and was confronted by her visitor. He greeted her with a 
certain formality; he looked grave and seemed ill at ease; 


237 


a bachelor’s blunder. 

insomuch that she began to wonder whether any male Lady 
Chatterton had been treating him as she herself had been 
treated. 

Of course, nothing of that kind had taken place. No 
man had felt it his duty to warn Bertie that he was com- 
promising Mrs. -Herbert by his behavior — indeed it would 
have been rather late in the day to address such remon- 
strances to that quarter — nor had it occurred to him that 
he was in any way answerable for the abrupt disappearance 
from London of a lady whom he esteemed as much as he 
loved. What was making him uncomfortable, was the ap- 
parition of what he felt to be his fate, in the person of the 
wealthy and sable-clad Carry. He had contrived of late to 
forget her, or, at any rate, not to think about her; but now 
here she was, as large as life, and at the sight of her his 
heart grew heavy within him. 

Carry had a restless, excited look which was not unbe- 
coming to her, her cheeks being a little pinker, and her 
eyes brighter than usual. Hope, as she came in, saw her 
sister-in-law make a scarcely perceptible movement of im- 
patience, and understood that she was de trop ; but there 
was no help for that. She sat down ; and presently Bertie, 
resuming, as it seemed, an interrupted discussion, ob- 
served: 44 1 call you uncommonly lucky, all the same. If 
any old woman would leave me an estate and a lot of coin, 
I shouldn’t think a few weeks of watching by her bedside 
too long a price to pay for it.” 

44 1 don’t deny that money is a useful thing,” said Carry. 

44 Useful! Why it’s indispensable — simply indispensable! 
No doubt, you may be rich without being happy; but I 
really can’t see how anybody is to be happy without being 
rich. ” 

Carry opened her lips to speak, but closed them again, 
and was silent awhile. 44 1 had as much as I required be- 
fore,” she remarked at length. 44 Aunt Anne’s money 
will do nothing for me — at least, I suppose not. It’s a pity 
one can’t give away one’s superfluity.” 

44 It is indeed! If such gifts could be accepted, I should 
have a word to put in for a deserving person,” said Bertie, 
with dismal jocularity. 

44 And I should ask nothing better than to act upon your 
recommendation,” returned Carry, knowing that she was 
treading upon dangerous ground, yet deriving a sort of 


238 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


painful pleasure from watching the play of the young 
man’s countenance. She understood pretty well what was 
the nature of his feelings with regard to her; she knew that 
her wealth must be an immense temptation to him; there 
was only one rag of an illusion which she permitted her- 
self to retain. “ If he loved me ever so much, he could 
not marry me unless I were well off/"’ was what she thought. 

“ The utmost that I could spend upon myself would be 
two or three thousand a year,” she continued aloud; 
“ enough to pay for keep, clothing, and four or five horses. 
For you it is quite different; there are so many things that 
men want." 

Bertie nodded and sighed. “ Yes; a heap!” he agreed. 

“ And all of them indispensable?" Hope could not help 
asking. 

She did not wait for his answer, but hurriedly changed 
the subject, and, after a quarter of an hour of desultory 
conversation, which was kept up with some difficulty, Ber- 
tie rose to take his leave. 

He resolved, as he rode away, that his visits to Farndon 
should be few and far between for the present. It might 
be, and it probably was, his ultimate destiny to marry Miss 
Herbert; but to assume the pseudo-lovemaking which had 
been interrupted six months before; to propose, and to be- 
come engaged to the woman whom he did not love, under 
the roof of the woman whom he did — no! he could not go 
through all that again. Some more fitting occasion would 
doubtless present itself. Indeed it was his habit to wait for 
fitting occasions, and the longer he had to wait, the better 
he was pleased. But, as might have been anticipated, his 
sense of the fitness of things was not strong enough to keep 
him away from Farndon Court for more than a few days; 
and, whatever may have been the attraction that drew him 
thither, he soon ceased to resist it. Being afraid to speak 
much or often to Hope, lest he should arouse Carry’s jeal- 
ousy, he did not notice that she avoided him. A certain 
coldness in her manner he did notice; but that, he thought, 
was easily to be accounted for. Of course she must de- 
spise him; of course she could feel nothing but contempt 
for the ignoble part which circumstances forced him to 
play. He put on a melancholy face whenever sbe appeared, 
and even in her absence was apt to be silent and out of 
spirits. 


a bachelor's blunder. 


239 


Thus a week or two passed away, without any special 
event to mark them, and the four persons who spent the 
greater portion of this quiet period together would have 
been as contented as fine weather, and plenty of expedients 
for killing time could make them, had not each and all of 
them been irritated by a sense of suspense, and a conviction 
that things could not go on in this fashion much longer. 
Even Dick was provoked into saying to his wife: “ I wish 
to goodness the fellow would do one thing or the other! The 
end of it will be that I shall have to ask him his intentions. " 

“ Perhaps Carry will save you the trouble," answered 
Hope, who was quite unable to feel any sympathy with her 
sister-in-law in this matter, although she was sincerely sorry 
for her. 

“ Upon my word, I believe it would be the best thing 
that she could do," returned Dick, laughing. 4 4 He is com- 
ing over to dine and sleep for the dance next Thursday, 
and if she doesn't bring him to the point then, I shall 
begin to doubt whether she ever will. It strikes me very 
forcibly that our young friend Cunningham is giving us all 
a great deal more bother than he is worth." 

“ It is hardly his doing," Hope felt bound in justice to 
the absent to urge. 

‘ 4 Well, perhaps not," agreed Dick, pensively; “ perhaps 
not. Very few things appear to be anybody's doing in 
particular, when you come to look into them." 

It certainly was not Hope's doing that the neighbors had 
been bidden to a dance at Farndon Court. That, as well 
as sundry picnics and other entertainments of a mild order 
which had preceded it, was entirely due to the initiative of 
Carry, who may possibly have thought, as her brother did, 
that opportunities were thereby afforded to persons desirous 
of 44 coming to the point." It was by her suggestion also 
that a numerous house party was invited to assemble at 
this time. Parliament having now risen, the Lefroys, 
among others, were persuaded to pay their niece a flying 
visit, and Hope derived some satisfaction from the thought 
that any lingering suspicions of her which Lady Jane might 
harbor, would now probably be dispelled. It would take 
a very perverse person to see Captain Cunningham and 
Miss Herbert together, and then accuse the former of flirt- 
ing with his hostess. 

Hor did Lady Jane fail to justify expectation. She ar- 


240 


a bachelor's blunder. 


rived on the afternoon of the day appointed for the dance, 
and during dinner made use of her eyeglasses to such pur- 
pose that she afterward took Hope aside and squeezed her 
hand, saying, with warm approval: 44 My dear, you have 
managed it admirably! — so wise of you to have a few peo- 
ple whom one knows in the house! Between ourselves I 
may tell you that your flight at such very short notice tvas 
a little remarked upon; but you couldn't make a better 
answer than this. It is an old affair, you know; it has 
been dragging on for I don't know how long, and I really 
don't think he can back out of it now. Though to be sure 
there is no telling, because in these days young men don't 
seem to care what they do, and no one ever dreams of 
bringing them to book. " But at all events, everybody must 
admit that you have done your best to bring on a crisis; 
and that is the main thing." 

4 4 The main thing," thought Hope, 44 is to be thoroughly 
selfish." But it was just as well not to say this,- and as she 
had done nothing to promote or impede the crisis alluded 
to, she was disposed neither to blame herself nor to claim 
credit from others. She was a little disappointed in Bertie, 
and she believed that Carry was on the way toward the 
commission of a fatal blunder; but the turn which events 
had taken was beyond her control, and was most likely the 
inevitable outcome of equally inevitable circumstances. 
After all, as Hick had averred, very few things were the 
doing of anybody in particular. 

Upheld by this agreeable sense of irresponsibility, Hope 
discharged the less complicated duty of receiving her guests 
in a manner which left nothing to be desired. Her season 
in London had not been thrown away upon her. She had 
learned without much difficulty the knack, which many 
ladies who live in the world and for the world never ac- 
quire, of being ready with the right thing to say at the 
right moment; she looked very beautiful and very distin- 
guished; and Lady Jane, tapping Dick emphatically on 
the arm with her fan, said: 44 A success — a complete suc- 
cess! Allow me to congratulate you. I may be allowed 
to congratulate myself, too; for I always maintained that 
Hope was just the wife for you." 

44 It is only fair to admit that you always did," answered 
Dick. 44 1 don't recollect, though, that I ever expressed 
any doubt of it myself." 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


241 


“ No; not you. But she doubted a good deal/l can 
assure you. However, all’s well that ends well. ” 

“ Have we come to the end yet?’’ asked Dick, and turned 
away without waiting for a reply. 

The spacious rooms, opening one out of the other, which 
formed the ground-floor of Farndon Court were well adapted 
for entertaining, and seemed, indeed, to have been built for 
that end. Lighted by an abundance of wax-candles, and 
decorated with masses of flowers, which the head-gardener 
had sacrificed in much bitterness of spirit, they deserved 
the encomium passed upon them by an enthusiastic gentle- 
man who said: “ By Jove, Mrs. Herbert, with a house like 
this, you ought to give a ball every week!” The warm> 
scented air was stirred by waves of the fitful breeze which 
was blowing outside, and which set the lace curtains sway- 
ing; the plaintive melody of the waltzes rose and fell in 
measured cadence. Hope flitted from room to room, talk- 
ing to the dowagers, introducing shy youths to partnerless 
maidens, and pausing every now and then to watch the 
dancers, among whom Bertie and Carry were conspicuous. 
Carry was an admirable waltzer, Hope noticed. She her- 
self declined to dance in the earlier part of the evening, 
despite the earnest request of Bertie, whose protestations 
she cut short rather summarily. It was not until nearly 
midnight that she yielded to the entreaties, or rather com- 
mands, of one of his brother-officers — a smooth-faced, fair- 
haired boy, fresh from Fton-^-who was- determined to have 
what he wanted and would take no refusal. 

“ Oh, but you must, you know, Mrs. Herbert,” he said. 
“ You’ve been doing your duty like a Spartan for the last 
two hours, and I’m not going to let you sit out any longer 
to please anybody.” 

So Hope laughed and allowed him to whirl her away, 
and a passing glance which she obtained of Bertie’s sur- 
prised and angry face was, somehow or other, not displeas- 
ing to her. Why she should have derived gratification 
from this disappointment of an old friend she did not ask 
herself; nor was she able to give any good reason for re- 
peating her refusal when he again approached her and 
begged, rather formally, for the next waltz. It was then 
considerably later, and during the interval she had had 
three different partners. 

“ But that only shows that I have danced too much and 


242 


A bachelor's blunder. 

ought to stop/' she said, when he reminded her of this 
circumstance. 

“1 think it shows that you are ready to dance with 
everybody except me," Bertie returned. “ And I can't 
make out why." 

It suddenly struck Hope that she was giving rather too 
much importance to a small matter. “ As you please, 
then," she said, and laid her hand on his shoulder without 
more ado. Lady Jane was out of sight; nobody was watch- 
ing her; and, when all was said and done, there could be 
little harm in taking a few turns round the room with a 
man who was as good as engaged to her sister-in-law. 

But perhaps it was not quite so wise to step through one 
of the open windows and out on to the terrace with him 
when the waltz came to an end. Hope did so, in the first 
place because he suggested it and because it is very dis- 
agreeable to say “ No " to every proposition that is made 
to you, and in the second because she thought that it would 
be pleasant to take a peep out-of-doors on such a fine 
night. And very pleasant it certainly was out there in the 
cool, dark garden. The breeze had died away into a dead 
calm; there was a fresh, moist fragrance in the air, and a 
silvery haze hung over the grass. The full moon, sinking 
in the west, was hidden by a belt of trees; but its light fell 
upon the wooded hills opposite, and nothing could be more 
natural than to walk on a short distance and look down 
upon the lake which lay in deep shadow beneath. Hope 
dropped the cloak which she had brought out with her on 
to the balustrade and, resting her arms upon it, contem- 
plated the prospect, to which Bertie, who had seated him- 
self sideways so as to command a full view of something 
which pleased him more, turned his back. 

“ Would you mind," he asked, “ telling me what I have 
done to affront your" 

Hope started, and began to wish that she had remained 
in-doors. She had been expecting this question any time 
during the past three weeks; but as it had never been put, 
she had lately concluded that Captain Cunningham did not 
value her friendship so very highly, and that he had not 
observed any diminution of cordiality ou her part. The 
consequence was that she was taken by surprise, and could 
not recollect any of the appropriate speeches which she had 
prepared for this emergency. 


a bachelor's blunder. 243 

“You are quite mistaken; I am not in the least affront- 
ed with you/' was ail that she found to say. 

“Your* voice tells a different story. I wish you would 
speak plainly to me. And yet I am not sure that I do 
wish it; it isn't necessary. Of course I know why you are 
annoyed with me; and you are right, I suppose. I am go- 
ing to do a shabby sort of thing — though I didn't think it 
a specially shabby thing until — until — I knew you; and it's 
only what other men do every day and are rather praised 
for than not. I can't help it; that's my sole excuse." 

“ I don't pretend to set myself up as a judge of your 
actions," answered Hope, rather relieved to find that he 
was upon the wrong tack; “ but I should have thought 
that nobody need do wrong knowingly. And if you com- 
pare yourself with others isn't it the knowledge of com- 
mitting a shabby action that makes all the difference be- 
tween you and them?" 

“ Oh, I dare say it is," replied the young man, despon- 
dently. “ I shouldn't consider it shabby if it were not for 
— for — well, never mind. To marry without being in love 
is not a shabby action in itself; you'll allow that." 

“ Not so long as there is no pretense perhaps." 

“But there must be pretense; we discussed that point 
once before, if you remember. I'm sure I don't know 
what to do! It seems to me that I have got between the 
devil and the deep sea, and whichever wa^ I turn, there is 
grief ahead. Decide for me! I would rather have your 
decision than my own. Shall I marry or shall I not?" 

“ How can you expect me to answer such a question!" 
exclaimed Hope. “ I couldn't if I would, and most cer- 
tainly I wouldn't if I could." 

“ In point of fact, you don't care." 

“ I care very much. We have been great friends — " 

“ But we aren't great friends any longer?" interrupted 
Bertie. 

“Yes, we are. At all events, we can be again, and I 
am sure you have my best wishes. But you must see how 
impossible it is that I should make up your mind for you. 
There is a great deal to be said on both sides — more than I 
know of, most likely. If you have to choose between two 
evils, you must take the lesser, I suppose." 

“ Is that all the help that you can give me?" 

“ What would you have me say? As far as I can judge. 


244 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


it would be disgraceful in you to draw back now; but I 
don’t know whether it isn’t even more disgraceful to marry 
for the sake of money alone. ” 

If Bertie had foreseen that his conduct was going to be 
called disgraceful, he would not, perhaps, have asked Mrs. 
Herbert to accompany him to the terrace. Such language 
was by no means what he was accustomed to hear, and in 
his vexation he forgot himself so far as to murmur: 44 Yet 
that was what you did yourself. ” 

Hope crimsoned all over her face and neck. 44 That is 
neither just nor true!” she cried. 44 You have no right to 
say such things to me, and I am very sorry that you should 
have thought you could. ” 

She picked up her cloak as she spoke, and moved away 
toward the house. But Bertie sprung off the parapet and 
caught her hand. 

44 For God’s sake, don’t quarrel with me!” he exclaimed. 
44 Anything rather than that! I beg your pardon a thou- 
sand times over for having offended you. Of course I ought 
not to have said it; but you don’t know how miserable I 
am! Or perhaps you do know — I think you must know. 
You can’t have helped seeing how I love you. I loved you 
the very first time that I saw you — at that ball, do you re- 
member? — and I always shall love you as long as I live. If 
only things had been different! — if only I could have vent- 
ured to tell you long ago — ” 

He did not finish his sentence. Hope had wrenched her 
hand away from him, had retreated a pace, and was look- 
ing at him in a way which fairly struck him dumb with 
amazement. Her face had lost every vestige of color, and 
its expression of horror and disgust could not have been 
greater if he had been the vilest wretch alive, instead of 
being only an unhappy young man, crossed in love. 

44 What is the matter?” he stammered out, foolishly 

Hope could not reply. She averted her head and" sud- 
denly threw out her hands, as if she were trying to push 
some hideous sight away from her. Then she moved 
quickly toward the house. But after taking a few steps 
she turned and faced the young man who was following her. 

44 We must keep up appearances,” she said, in a hard 
voice. 44 That is the great thing, is it not? — the only thing 
that you and people like you, care about. I shall have to 
meet you sometimes, I suppose; but I will never speak to 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


245 


you again, if I can help ifc. And one thing more: I don't 
believe what you told me just now; I don't believe that you 
know what love is. But nothing that you can ever say or 
do will make me forget that you have taken me for a 
woman who might be safely insulted." 

And so she passed through the open window into the 
ball-room, and, maintaining a self-command which aston- 
ished herself, was presently walking through a set of lancers 
with the first person who had chanced to cross her path. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

CONFESSION. 

From the days of St. Paul, and perhaps from a still 
earlier period, it has been admitted that, as regards many 
of the incidents and accidents of life, a man must be his 
own j udge and fix his standard of right and wrong for him- 
self. There are persons who feel bound to quench their 
thirst only with non-intoxicating beverages, and there are 
persons who are content to refrain from allowing their 
beverages to intoxicate them; some consider it a duty to 
fast rigorously throughout Lent, while others are of opinion 
that abstinence from pudding on Friday fully meets the re- 
quirements of the case. It all depends upon the point of view; 
and although it might be dangerous to strain this principle of 
toleration too far (lest we should find ourselves compelled 
to excuse the peculiarities of the peculiar people), it may 
be conceded that a married woman who has received a 
declaration of love from somebody who is not her husband 
need not of necessity take blame to herself on that account. 
Indeed, it seems probable that there are a good many mar- 
ried ladies who would never dream of so doing. 

44 But, fortunately or unfortunately, Hope Herbert did 
not happen to be one of these. To her mind, a woman 
who had passed through such an experience must be more 
or less disgraced by it, just as a man to whom a bribe has 
been offered can not recover his self-respect by a mere re- 
fusal of it; since bribes are not offered to persons likely to 
refuse them. She had wished to be, and until lately had 
believed herself to be, omni suspicions major; but now 
there was no getting ever the fact that this was not the 


246 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


view universally taken of her. Furious as she was against 
Bertie Cunningham, and unsparing as was her condemna- 
tion of him, a careful process of self-examination obliged 
her to find him guilty with extenuating circumstances. 
She saw that her intimacy with him had been liable to 
misconception, and although he ought never to have mis- 
conceived it, it was, perhaps, hardly wonderful that he 
should have done so. Therefore, instead of employing the 
few hours left of the night in going to sleep, she tossed and 
turned miserably, and was filled with distress and re- 
pentance. 

Now true repentance, as the Church has always taught, 
consists of three parts: namely, contrition, confession, and 
amendment: and a much more comfortable thing it would 
be for us poor sinners if it only consisted of the first. As 
for Hope, she would have had no difficulty in accomplish- 
ing the third into the bargain; it was the second that she 
dreaded, and yet could not see her way to escape. Here 
again the point of view is the sign-post which seekers after 
the right path have to consult; and one may iniagine that a 
conscientious woman, placed as Hope was, might deem it 
needless to take her husband into her confidence. The ob- 
jections to such a course are manifest, and the duty of it 
not so clear but that a very trifling application of casuistry 
will suffice to obscure it. But there was a fatal honesty and 
directness in Hope's character which prevented casuistry 
from being of any use to her. She had offended against 
Dick — innocently, no doubt, still she had offended — and 
nothing short of acknowledging as much to him could set 
her at peace with herself again. Assuredly it was not fear 
of the consequences that ought to close her lips; yet, she 
hoped that these would not be very terrible. He would 
hardly be so ungenerous as to blame her; and, if he were 
moderately generous, he might even be disposed to blame 
himself a little. He might have foreseen what was likely 
to happen; be might have given her a word of warning — he, 
who knew the world and the wicked ways of men so much 
better than she did. But in any case he must be told. 

When she went down to breakfast she was relieved to 
hear that Bertie had already fled. 

“ Captain Cunningham asked me to say good-bye to you 
for him," Carry, whose face wore an anxious and annoyed 
expression, informed her. “ He had a telegram early this 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


247 


morning, telling him to return to duty at once. Net very 
civil of his colonel, I think, considering that the man was 
here last night and must have known that we didn’t want 
our visitors to be hustled off before breakfast.” 

Hope felt some doubt as to whether the poor colonel had 
been guilty of the incivility attributed to him, but was very 
willing to pardon him if he had. The majority of her 
guests, including her uncle and aunt, were leaving her that 
day, and a private interview with Dick was out of the ques- 
tion before the afternoon. She forced herself to talk, and 
was glad to find that she could do so with tolerable ease. 

“ You are looking very pale, my dear,” Lady Jane said. 
“ I am afraid you overtired yourself last night; but you have 
the comfort of knowing that it was a great success. ” And 
then in an under- tone: “ Do you think that wretched little 
man has gone off without doing his duty, after all? Be- 
tween you and me, I know he didn’t have a telegram this 
morning, because the butler told my maid that none had 
arrived for anybody.” 

“ Perhaps Carry has refused him,” said Hope, allowing 
herself that little bit of duplicity as a set-off against the 
candor which she was about to display by and bye. 

But Lady Jane’s only answer to so absurd an hypothesis 
was a snprt of derision. 

That necessity for keeping up appearances which Hope 
had sneered at the night before, and which all of us find a 
little irksome at times, ought not, after all, to be counted 
among the burdens of existence, since it forces us not only 
to conceal our troubles but to put them out of our minds. 
Hope was busy all the morning making civil speeches and 
saying good-by to her visitors, and so had no time either to 
fret over what had happened in the past or to grow alarmed 
as to what*Was about to happen in the immediate future. 
By luncheon time the house was almost empty, and she 
was then able to see the approach of her opportunity. In 
the afternoon Dick was to drive a bachelor friend of his 
down to the station; her obvious plan would be to inter- 
cept him at the confines of the park on his return, and 
make her confession while he walked back with her to the 
house. Carry, who never requested her company and doubt- 
less never desired it, would not be likely to throw obstacles 
in the way of this scheme. 

Everybody is agreed that when a tooth has to be drawn. 


248 


a bachelor's blunder. 


the sooner it comes out the better; but it is only exception- 
ally strong-minded persons who can contrive to be cheerful 
during the hours preceding the operation, and it must be 
confessed that when Hope, looking at her watch, found 
that it was already half-past four, and that she must start 
at onqe if she wished to make sure of catching her husband 
at a given point, her heart began to sink within her. She 
had never quite succeeded in fathoming the depths of Dick's 
nature. He himself would probably have declared that 
there were none to fathom, and certainly it was not his 
habit to conceal either his tastes or his opinions; but every 
one must have a temper somewhere or other about him, 
and the less he shows it the more stormy it is apt to be 
when aroused. So far as Hope was concerned, Dick's tem- 
per was an unknown quantity. She had not once seen him 
angry; but since their marriage there really had been noth- 
ing to make him so. What she half knew and half sur- 
mised was that his notions of duty were of the strictest 
order, and that he was by no means given to recognizing 
degrees of right and wrong. She felt almost sure that he 
would either absolve her altogether or condemn her utterly, 
and she was afraid that if he did condemn her, he might do 
so with a violence which she would not be able readily to 
pardon. In short, she perceived that there was danger 
ahead and longed, as every one must at such times, to be 
either in the thick of it or out of it; so that, as she made 
her way across the park, her courage required constant 
turns of the screw to keep it up to the sticking-point. 

The day had been hot and airless, but now a light wind 
had sprung up, setting the leaves whispering softly over- 
head, as Hope skirted the woods. The rabbits scuttled 
away on her approach, but not very fast, for they w r ere 
quite well aware that she did not carry a gun; bright-eyed 
squirrels peered down at her from the boughs, and in the 
cool depths of the thickets the birds were calling to one an- 
other. To all these sights and sounds, which ordinarily 
pleased her, she paid little heed, but hastened on, as though 
by increasing her pace she could bring Dick back from the 
station any sooner or cause the bad quarter of an hour that 
was coming to begin a second before its appointed time. 
Naturally enough, the only consequence of her hurry was 
that she made herself uncomfortably hot, and reached the 
wicket-gate, for which she was bound, a good deal earlier 


A bachelor's blunder. 


249 


• than was necessary. She leaned over it, looking clown the 
white, dusty road and listening for the sound of wheels; 
and after a while, as the silence remained unbroken, she 
began, somewhat inconsistently, to think what a blessed 
reprieve it would be if Dick had driven round by the game- 
keeper's cottage, as he sometimes did, and had thus given 
her a walk for nothing. 

But there was as yet no ground for any such conjecture, 
for her watch told her that it still wanted several minutes 
to the time at which she had calculated that her husband 
would pass the spot where she was standing, and the result 
proved the accuracy of her forecast. Punctually to the 
moment she heard the quick beat of a fast-trotting horse's 
hoofs upon the road, and presently a high dog-cart hove in 
sight, in which Dick was seated aloft, smoking a cigar and 
flicking at the hedgerows with his whip as he bowled along. 
She threw the gate open and stepped out as soon as he was 
opposite to her, whereupon he pulled up with a jerk and 
called out: 44 Oh, it's you, is it? Shall I give you a lift?" 

44 Noy thank you," answered Hope, trying, without con- 
spicuous iuccess, to look as if nothing was the matter; 
4 4 but if you are not too lazy you might walk home with 
me. " 

Dick immediately handed the reins to the groom and 
descended with much deliberation. He had a few words 
to say to the man, and while he was saying them Hope 
scanned his face anxiously. How would he take it? Was 
he in a good humor? But the futility of such queries was 
obvious. Dick's face looked exactly as it always looked, 
and as for being in a good humor, was he not always in a 
good humor? When he joined her and remarked, with his 
customary .equanimity: 44 I've just had a telegram from 
Newmarket to say that Sarsaparilla has broken down — split 
her pastern at exercise this morning," she felt that she 
could not at once plunge into the midst of her avowal. 

Sarsaparilla was the most valuable of Dick's small string 
of thoroughbreds, and as great things had been expected of 
the mare it was necessary to express some condolence. So 
they talked a little of racing matters, which led them to 
speak of Jacob Stiles and of pictures and various other 
topics, and it seemed as if the conversation could by no 
possibility be .brought round to the subject of Captain 
Cunningham and his delinquencies. Hope was nervous and 


250 


a bachelor's blunder. 


talked very much at random; but Dick, lounging along by 
her side, with his hands in his pockets, did not seem to no- 
tice her embarrassment, and was altogether so easy and un- 
suspicious that she felt her task becoming more difficult 
every minute. Several times she tried to speak, but the 
words died away in her throat and her heart thumped 
against her ribs, until at last she told herself that this 
would never do and that she must shiver on the brink no 
longer. About a hundred yards ahead of them a spreading 
beech-tree threw its shade across the grass. “ When we 
get to that tree," she thought to herself, “ I will tell him." 
And as soon as they reached the spot, she stopped short, in- 
terrupting him in the middle of a sentence. 

“ Dick," she said, in a voice which sounded to her very 
queer and unlike her own, “ I went to meet you on pur- 
pose; I have something to say to you. " 

“ So I rather imagined," observed Dick, placidly. 

“ Why? What do you mean?" she asked, turning upon 
him with a quic-k look of alarm. 

“ Only that you don't as a rule ask me to take a walk 
with you, you know. .Besides, I thought from your face 
when you stopped me, that there , was something in the 
wind. " 

“ There is something — something dreadful! 1 don't 
know how to tell you about it. " She paused and then went 
on appealingly: “ Dick, we agreed, didn't we, that we 
would always be honest with one another? — that we would 
have no concealments?" 

Dick nodded, his face becoming a shade graver. 4 ‘ Well?" 
he said. 

“Well, that is why I thought I must let you know — 
though it would have been so much easier to say nothing, 
and I suppose you would never have found out. " Here _ 
she came to a second standstill, thinking that perhaps he 
would give her a word of encouragement, but he did not 
open his lips, and she had to blunder on as best she could. 
“It was last night — at the dance — I went out on to the 
terrace with Captain Cunningham, and — and — " 

At this point Hope broke down altogether and suddenly 
burst into tears. Ifr was in no such fashion that she had 
intended to tell her tale. She had meant to be calm and 
collected, to relate without much comment Exactly what had 
occurred, and to submit with meekness but dignity to any 


A bachelor's blunder. 


251 


reproaches that Dick might think himself justified in ad- 
dressing to her; but instead of that, she was behaving like 
a silly hysterical school-girl, and was speaking quite unin- 
telligibly into the bargain. However, there was nothing 
for it but to proceed. “ I went out on to the terrace with 
him,'' she repeated between her sobs, “ and he said — he 
said — ” 

“ That he loved you?” suggested Dick, in a quiet, level 
voice. 

Hope nodded over her pocket-handkerchief. “ I couldn't 
help it,” she murmured; “ I had not the least idea of what 
he was going to say; and — and I told him that I would 
never speak to him again.” 

She could hardly distinguish her husband's features 
through her tears; but presently he broke the silence, and 
his voice certainly sounded rather cold. “ Never mind,” 
he said; “ don't distress yourself. Sit down here, and you 
will be better in a few minutes.” 

Hope did as she was told. She seated herself on the 
short, dry grass beneath the beech-tree and, leaning hack 
against the trunk, tried to swallow down the lump which 
would keep rising in her throat, while Dick, his hands still 
in his pockets, moved away a few yards and stood with his 
back turned toward her and his head slightly bent. It was 
difficult to guess from his attitude in what way the news 
had affected him, or whether it had affected him at all. 
After what seemed a long time he slowly returned, and 
Hope looking up into his face saw r that it was very grave. 

“ Are you angry with me, Dick?” she asked, timidly. 

“No,” he answered, “I am not angry wfith you; I 
should be utterly unreasonable if I were. You have done 
all that you could possibly do. You have sent Cunning- 
ham away, and you have told me the truth at once. The 
rest is no fault of yours. ” 

“ I don't know; I am afraid it was my fault a little. I 
ought to have known what was coming, for Aunt Jane 
warned me and so did Lady Chatterton; only I would not 
believe them. " 

“ As far as that goes, I ought to have known* too,'' said 
Dick; “ but what is done can't be undone, and there's no 
use in looking back over one's shoulder. The future is the 
only thing that we can control." 

He spoke quietly and without tile slightest appearance of 


252 


a bachelor's blunder. 


emotion; but somehow Hope was not quite reassured. 
“ You — you — won't do anything to him, will you, Dick?" 
she hazarded. 

“ Horsewhip him, do you mean? Oh, dear no; what 
would be the good? For Carry's sake, as well as for yours, 
I shall take no notice. " 

“ For Carry's sake!" echoed Hope. “ But surely you 
don't think that there can be anything between her and 
Captain Cunningham now.” 

Dick smiled and looked apologetic: “ Well, you see, I've 
reached middle age, or something very near it," he said. 

“ What then?" asked Hope, being unable to perceive the 
relevance of this observation. 

“ Only that at my time of life I can't help knowing how 
easily men get over these things. He will return to Carry 
— and her fortune, you may depend upon it; and whenever 
he does return she will accept him gratefully. It isn't ex- 
actly what you could call desirable; but it can't be helped. 
People must be allowed to make their own lives for them- 
selves. ' ' 

This philosophic acquiescence in the frailties of human 
nature did not please Hope, who rejoined, somewhat sharp- 
ly: “ I don't see how you can be so sure. Most likely you 
have never been in love in the whole* course of your life. " 

“ Oh, yes, I have — once," replied Dick, after a moment 
of hesitation. 

“ And you got over it very easily, no doubt." 

“ Well, I don't look broken-hearted, do I?" 

“ You certainly do not. But everybody is not so sensi- 
ble. " 

“ You mean insensible, perhaps? But I wasn't talking 
about everybody; I was talking about Cunningham. Never- 
theless, a time does come — it may be long or. it may be quick 
in coming — when everybody ceases to wish for what can't be 
had. Believe me, you will find it so. This isn't a subject 
which you and I can very well discuss together now; but 
perhaps some day it may be different. Meanwhile, least 
said soonest mended." 

Hope knitted her brows and stared at him. “ You 
speak as if I — as if I — cared for Captain Cunningham!" 
she exclaimed. 

“ If you did, I don't think you would have any reason 
to be ashamed of it. You have never deceived me. From 


A bachelor's blunder. 


253 


the very first you told me distinctly that you had no love for 
me; and if afterward you met somebody whom you could 
love, it was — well, a piece of bad luck, that's all." 

“ But I don't love him; I hate him!" cried Hope, ve- 
hemently. “What right have you to make such accusa- 
tions against me?" And then, as Dick made no reply: 
“ Don't you believe me:" she exclaimed. 

“ I think you have behaved as honorably as it was possi- 
ble to behave," answered Dick; “ and I believe that you 
speak with perfect sincerity." 

“ Yo, you don't," she returned, deeply wounded; “ you 
don't believe me in the least! And after all, how little it 
signifies! So long as I behave what you call honorably- — 
by which I suppose you mean, so long as I don't create a 
public scandal— you will be satisfied. Make your mind 
easy, then; I shall never disgrace you. But I wish — oh, I 
wish I had never married you!" 

Dick received this outburst as phlegmatically as he had 
received her previous display of agitation, “ I am afraid 
it has been a sad mistake," he agreed. “ All that I can 
say is that I honestly thought I was consulting your hap- 
piness, as well as my own, at the time; and even now — 
however, we won't anticipate. The best plan is to take 
short views of life, go on from day to day, and do one's 
duty. In the long run, crooked things become straight." 

“ One's duty!" repeated Hope, scornfully; “ that is eas- 
ily said. What are your duties, I wonder? — and how do 
you do them?" . 

“ I'm afraid I often neglect them," answered Dick, 
humbly enough. 

“ And sometimes mistake them, perhaps." 

“ Very likely. But I think 1 can see my duty pretty 
clearly, so far as -you are concerned. And I should like 
just to thank you for having treated me so fairly. It is no 
more than I should have expected of you; but for all that, 
I know very well that you have done what nine women out 
of ten would have shirked. You need not have said that 
about not disgracing me; I trust you as implicitly as I trust 
myself." 

“You may certainly trust me," answered Hope, coldly. 

They had resumed their walk long before this and were 
now at the entrance of the house, where they parted. Hope 
was not in the least appeased by the formal tribute to her 


254 a bachelor’s blunder. 

honorable conduct expressed in her husband’s last speech. 
He had been pleased to say that he trusted her; but he had 
doubted her word; and what was worse was that he had 
not cared at all whether she was speaking the truth or 
not. He had put aside the question of her loving or not 
loving Captain Cunningham as though it had been of quite 
secondary importance. It was “bad luck” for her, he 
had said ; but he evidently did not look upon it as. being 
bad luck for himself. He was just like Lady Jane and all 
the rest of them. “ Do what you please, only don’t make 
a scandal ” was the beginning and end of their code. As 
she thought, with burning anger, of the scene which she 
had just passed through, and realized how out of place her 
agitation had been, she almost found it in her heart to wish 
that she did love Bertie Cunningham, even though she 
should never see or speak to him again. “ Right or wrong, 
it would be better than nothing. What is life worth if one 
is to care for nobody and be cared for by nobody?” she ex- 
claimed. 

And the luxurious fittings of her boudoir, the wide- 
stretching gardens that could be seen through the open 
windows,- the park and the woods beyond,, and 'all the evi- 
dences of wealth and refinement that were about her could 
give no answer to that pertinent question. 


CHAPTER XXX. • 

JACOB GOES OUT FOR A RIDE. 

One hot morning in August Jacob Stiles, feeling weary 
and exhausted, laid down his brushes and maul-stick and 
went to the window for a mouthful of fresh air. He drew 
into his lungs one or two long breaths of that smoke- 
charged compound which goes by the name of air in Lon- 
don, and which the death-rate of that city shows to be ex- 
tremely wholesome, but which no stretch of courtesy can 
call fresh. It failed to refresh Jacob, who returned into 
the room, threw a cloth over the canvas upon which he 
had been at work, and said to himself that it was high time 
to be off. 

There was nothing to prevent him from starting north, 
south, east, or west, as soon as he pleased; for his success- 


A BACHELOR’S BLUNDER. 


255 




ful season had brought him ample funds, and he had no- 
body convenience to consult save his own; but, perhaps, 
because he was possessed of such absolute freedom, he felt 
no inclination to make use of it; and after meditating for 
a short time he made up his mind to go quietly down to 
Farndon as usual. At Farndon, at any rate, he would 
find a friend, which was more than he. could say with cer- 
tainty of any other spot on the earth’s surface. In be- 
coming famous as an artist he had become no better known 
as an individual, and the few advances which had been 
made to him he had discouraged; for he recognized his 
destiny, and had long ago said to himself, like the poet: 
“ Thou hast been, art, shall be, alone.” But this did not 
prevent him from longing for the sight of Hope’s beauti- 
ful, kind face and the sound of her soft voice; so he packed 
up his belongings and took his ticket for Windsor that same 
evening. 

It had long been his habit to come and go in this way, 
giving no notice of his movements. His rooms were always 
ready for him at Farndon, and often he would be for days 
in the house before the master of it chanced to come across 
him. Upon the present occasion he drove into the stable- 
yard, as his custom was, and his arrival was noticed only 
by a few of the servants. There were no visitors just now, 
the man who brought him his dinner informed him. There 
had been a large party; but it had dispersed after the dance 
which had taken place two nights before, and now only the 
family was at home. There was, therefore, no reason why 
Jacob should not venture down to the drawing-room after 
dinner and shake hands with Mrs. Herbert; but he re- 
frained from doing so, preferring to wait for a chance en- 
counter. The next morning, however, hearing that Mr. 
Herbert was alone in his study, he betook himself thither, 
carrying with him a sporting paper which he had just re- 
ceived. 

Hick was poring over a large map, which he rolled up 
somewhat hastily as Jacob entered. “ Oh, is that you, 
Jake?” he said. “ You’ve had enough of London, I sup- 
pose. Sit down and smoke a cigar.” 

There was a slight alteration in his face and in the ring 
of his voice, which at once made it clear to Jacob’s quick 
perceptions that something had happened to annoy him; 
but Jacob would as soon have thought of slapping the 


/ 


256 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


president of the Royal Academy on the back as of asking 
what that something might be. Besides, the paper which 
he held in his hand afforded a sufficient explanation. 

“ I am sorry to see/ ' he said, “ that Sarsaparilla has gone 
wrong. " 

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “ I hope you haven't 
backed her for the Leger." 

‘ • I never back horses," answered Jacob, thinking to 
himself, “ As if he didn't know that!" 

Presently he resumed : “It is an unlucky accident; but 
it isn't irreparable, you know. The mare will come right 
again, I have no doubt. " 

“ I don't care two straws whether she does or not," re- 
turned Dick, with unwonted roughness. Then, seeing the 
other's look of astonishment, he added, “ The fact is that 
my horses will be brought to the hammer before long. I 
am thinking of going over to America to shoot, and if I 
carry out my present plan, I shall be away at least a year. " 

Before Dick's marriage this sudden determination would 
have been only in accordance with his habits, and would 
have called for no remark; but under the changed circum- 
stances it sounded not a little startling, and Jacob, for all 
his discretion, could not help saying: “ And Mrs. Herbert? 
Does she go with you?" 

“ Of course not," answered Dick, tranquilly. “ Camp- 
ing out in the Rocky Mountains is not exactly the life for 
a lady — especially in winter." 

Jacob said nothing; ,but his thoughts were so plainly 
written on his face that Dick was pleased to reply to them. 
“ No," he said; “ Mrs. Herbert and I have not quarreled, 
and I take it that she will have no objection at all to my 
amusing myself in my own way. She was quite aware be- 
fore our marriage that I am an incurable rolling stone. 
However, as I have made no arrangements as yet, you had 
better consider this a confidential communication." 

Jacob's feelings toward his benefactor had for many 
years been of a curiously mixed character, being composed 
in something like equal parts of admiration, fear, grati- 
tude, and resentment. He believed that he understood 
perfectly the existing state of the relations between Dick 
and his wife, and he believed, furthermore, that he knew 
what those relations might easily become. The question 
was whether, for both their sakes, he ought not to speak a 


257 


a bachelor’s blunder. 

word in season, at the risk of being roundly snubbed. He 
was silent for a few minutes, and it was not without a con- 
siderable effort that he brought himself at length to say: 
“ Do you think it is quite fair on Mrs. Herbert to leave her 
like this for a year or more?” 

Dick was not offended; only a good deal surprised. 
“ Evidently you don’t think so,” he remarked. 44 I haven’t 
heard such a direct expression of opinion from you for a very 
long time, Jake. How, you musn’t mind my saying that 
you had better not meddle with what doesn’t concern you. 
Every man is the best judge of his own business; and I can 
assure you, if you don’t know it already, that two people 
may be excellent friends and yet not miss one another 
much when they are parted. ” 

“That was not quite what I meant,” returned Jacob, 
hesitatingly. 

4 4 Then what in the world did you mean?” 

44 Only that — it isn’t very easy to express it, and as you 
say it is no concern of mine- — ’ ’ 

44 Go on, man,” broke in Dick, impatiently. 44 Either 
speak out or hold your tongue, whichever you please. ” 
Jacob flushed slightly. 

44 1 wanted to warn you, or rather to remind you,” he 
said, 44 that there are dangers to which any woman, how- 
ever good she may be, must be exposed when she is so 
ostentatiously neglected. ” 

44 1 am not at all surprised at your saying so,” observed 
Dick, quietly. 44 Ho doubt your notion of common 4 sense 
is to trust people so long as they are in sight. Well, that 
doesn’t happen to be my notion. I consider that every- 
body has a yrwid facie right to be trusted, and I do trust 
everybody, in sight and out of sight, until they play me 
false.” 

/ 44 And never afterward. ” 

44 And never afterward,” Dick agreed. 

He was simply stating a fact, and had neither intention 
Dor consciousness of wounding his monitor; but Jacob, 
always on the look out for allusions to his own bygone 
©ffense, winced as if he felt again on his shoulders the lash 
yf the horsewhip which had punished it. 
i 44 Yes, that is your plan!” he exclaimed, bitterly, 44 and 
it is as senseless as it is cruel. Because a man has done 
jrong once can he never do right again? Have you your- 


25 8 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


self never done wrong? Oh, I know what you would say; 
you have never done anything dishonorable or base. It is 
neither base nor dishonorable to go away for your own en- 
joyment and leave your wife exposed to temptations which 
you, perhaps, wouldn't be able to resist in her place. No; 
at the worst, that is only thoughtless — only a little over- 
generous and confident. " 

“ We'll drop this, Jake, if you please," said Dick, with 
some sternness. “ You may abuse me as much as you like; 
but I can't allow you to speak as if Mrs. Herbert were in 
any danger from the kind of temptation that you hint at. " 

Jacob turned away without a word, and made for the 
door; but wnen his hand was on the lock Dick called after 
him, in a somewhat gentler voice: 

“ Don't be offended, Jake; I’m sure your intentions are 
good, and I'm obliged to you for saying what you think 
honestly. But the truth is that you can't quite understand 
the nature of the case." 

4 4 1 am not offended — if that matters," answered Jacob, 
as he left the room. 

But he was very deeply offended, and Dick's last words 
had not helped to rent^ve the cause of offense-. He could 
not understand the mature of the case, forsooth! In other 
words, a thief and a forger was incapable of entering into 
the feelings of honorable people. Nevertheless, the case 
was not such a hard one to understand. A loveless mar- 
riage, a careless husband, a lover who comes upon the 
scene too late — was it too much for any one to declare that 
there were elements of danger in such a situation as that? 
Jacob had watched Hope and Cunningham together; he 
was convinced that the man loved her and feared that — 
knowingly or unknowingly — she returned his love. Hope 
was to him the type of all that is purest and loveliest in 
woman, and the thought of what might so easily befall 
her was a torture to him. He cursed Dick’s blindness and 
selfishness; yet all the time he could not help admitting 
that there was something noble in the attitude of this blind 
and selfish man, something ignoble in his own suspicions. 
Was it not both shameful and inconsistent to assume that 
the lady whom he worshiped was no more proof against 
temptation than others of her sex? Many an idol has feet 
of clay; but at least those who prostrate themselves beforq 
it should be unable to discern them. * * 


A bachelor's blunder. 


259 


Jacob wandered feverishly up and down in his studio 
until at length, feeling that he could neither work nor sit 
still, he went down to the stables, saddled a horse for him- 
self, and rode out. He had purposely chosen an ill- 
tempered, unmanageable beast, who began to give him 
trouble immediately; but he did not vent his irritation 
upon his mount, as many men would have done. In the 
saddle he was always cool, patient, and conscious of his 
power. The animal could not unseat him, and must end 
by obeying him. He knew that, and derived some solace 
from a sensation which he never experienced at any other 
time. 

He cantered down the long shooting alleys of Windsor 
Forest, having enough to do to keep the powerful mare 
that he was riding under control, and being thus relieved 
from the pressure of painful thoughts. When he emerged 
into the Great Park a herd of fallow-deer, darting out sud- 
denly from beneath the shade of a tree startled the mare, 
who plunged violently and then broke clean away. Jacob 
did not mind this in the least. She was out of his hand; 
but he knew that he had grass before him the whole way to 
Windsor, and if it amused her to run away, she might run 
and welcome. Neither he nor she would be any the worse 
for it. So for a couple of miles or more he was borne at 
racing speed across the undulating expanse of park-land, 
managing to steer clear of the oaks and hawthorns, but 
charging through the patches of bracken and up the steep- 
est slopes, until the mare had had enough of it, and will- 
ingly allowed . herself to be pulled into a walk. It was a 
blazing summer day, and both she and her rider were very 
hot and short of breath by this time. Both of them, too, 
had been, reduced to a frame of mind much calmer than 
that in which they had started. Jacob took off his hat, 
passed his handkerchief over his forehead, and sighed. 

“ After all," he muttered, “ something like this was in- 
evitable. I always knew that; and so, I dare say, did she. 
Where in the world did I find the pluck to speak to Her- 
bert as I did just now? I'm glad I did speak; though of 
course it was no use. " 

He pulled up under the shade of a tree to let the mare 
get her wind before he turned her head homeward, and 
while he was sitting there, lost in thought, a voice suddenly 

.hailed him: “ Hi! Stiles, is that you?" 

ti 


260 


A bachelor’s bluhder. 


Jacob, glancing over bis shoulder, descried another horse- 
man approaching across the turf, and a subdued exclama- 
tion of annoyance escaped him when he recognized Captain 
Cunningham. He did not like Captain Cunningham, and 
would gladly have avoided speaking to him, had that been 
practicable. 

Bertie, drawing nearer, greeted him cheerily with: “ How 
are you, Stiles? Glad to see you in these parts again. Are 
you on your way home? If you are, perhaps you wouldn’t 
mind giving this note to Mrs. Herbert for me. ” 

Jacob threw a sidelong, distrustful glance at him. He 
had no fancy for the part of a go-between, and was very 
much inclined to tell Captain Cunningham that he might 
post his letter or deliver it himself. 

“ Not if it is any bother to you,” said Bertie, noticing 
the other’s hesitation. c ' ‘ I thought it would save me the 
ride, that was all.” 

“ Very well,” responded Jacob, curtly, holding out his 
hand for the note, which, as he had now had time to re- 
flect, might only be an answer to an invitation, after all. 

He gathered up his reins and was already moving when 
Bertie checked him by making some remark about his 
horse, and after conversing for a few minutes with that 
slight air of condescension which affronted Jacob more 
than downright rudeness, asked carelessly: “ Everybody 
all right at Farndon? Mrs. Herbert not too tired after the 
ball, I hope?” 

It struck Jacob that the carelessness of the inquiry was 
a little overdone, and that there was a suggestion of dis- 
quietude underlying it. “ I only returned last night,” he 
answered, “ and I haven’t seen Mrs. Herbert yet. ” 

“ Oh!” said Bertie; and this time his voice had a distinct 
intonation of disappointment. 

Jacob nodded, touched the mare with his heel and can- 
tered away. “ No concern of mine,” he kept repeating to 
himself, as he went; “ whatever happens can be no concern 
of mine — which seems odd, considering that I would die 
for her. What a fool I must be! Why shouldn’t I live 
for myself, like other people? The answer to that question 
isn’t far to seek; because I despise myself and adore her. 
Adore her! — I wonder what Bierbert would say if he heard 
that. I wonder what he would think I meant by it — I 
wonder what I do mean by it. I’m sure I can’t tell, and 


A bachelor's blunder. 261 

I'm even more sure that it doesn't signify. My thoughts 
are my own, and will continue to be kept to myself, I take 
it, as they always have been." 

Such as they were, his thoughts were no great comfort 
to him. The unwonted state of excitement into which he 
had been thrown some hours earlier had passed away and 
had left him dull and depressed. When he reached the 
stabes, the stud-groom, who never missed an opportunity 
of falling foul of him, remarked, sarcastically, that he did 
hope that the next time Mr. Stiles wanted to ride a horse 
to a standstill he would be .so very kind as not to choose a 
three-hundred-guinea animal. 

“ The mare is not worth a hundred guineas, and I have 
not ridden her to a standstill," returned Jacob, as he 
walked away. 

He ought to have been accustomed by this time to such 
small manifestations of spite; but it was his misfortune 
that he never did become accustomed to them, and his 
thin skin was pierced a dozen times a day by the minutest 
of pin-pricks. However, seated in a low wicker chair on 
the lawn was one who never inflicted wounds, but delighted 
rather in healing them. He had caught sight of her as he 
approached the house and made his way toward her now 
with something of a hurt child's longing to be comforted. 

But it is needless to say that no such desire was apparent 
in his manner, which was as formal as usual. He lifted 
his hat, saying: “ How do you do, Mrs. Herbert?" and 
Hope started up with a little -cry of pleasure. 

“ Oh! how glad I am that you have come! I was just 
thinking about you and wondering whether you would be 
down soon. I am going to begin painting in real earnest 
now, and I want you to help me, if you will. Go and get 
a chair for yourself, and tell me all about your experiences 
in London." 

Jacob obeyed her with a kind of sober triumph. She 
was really glad to see him again, then. To be sure she had. 
mentioned a specific reason for her gladness; but what of 
that? It was something to be welcome, if only as an in- 
structor, and it was something to be able to put her into 
good spirits. Her face was bright and smiling now, where- 
as, on approaching her, he had been struck by the weary 
dejection expressed in her attitude, He sat down beside 


I 


2G2 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


her and gave himself up to the enjoyment of listening to 
her voice and answering her questions. 

“ What does it feel like to be a great man?” she asked. 
Ci I suppose you don’t care a bit; but if I were in your 
pace I should hardly know whether I was standing upon 
my head or my heels. Doesn’t it make you at all proud to 
think that your name has been in the mouth of every edu- 
cated person in the three kingdoms this summer?” 

44 Not very,” answered Jacob, smiling. “You see, I 
might have achieved that much by murdering a man in a 
railway-carriage or trying to cross the channel in a balloon.” 

“ Well, at least you will allow that it is pleasant to be 
praised by all the best judges of art.” 

“ Yes; that is pleasant, no doubt — if it is the ease that 
I am praised by all the best judges. But,” he added, 
after a short pause, “ naturally such things don’t mean 
quite as much to me as they would to most men. I have 
neither kith nor kin nor friends, and one soon gets tired of 
gloating over success all by one’s self.” 

Hope protested against his assertion that he had no 
friends, and he thanked her for her protest, without being 
convinced by it. “ Friendship implies equality,” he ob- 
served. 

“I don’t admit that for a moment,” rejoined Hope. 
“ Besides, a great artist has no superiors.” 

They debated this point for a while and then wandered 
away to other topics. Jacob prolonged the conversation 
by every means in his power; for he felt a growing reluc- 
tance to discharge the commission which he had taken upon 
himself. At last he drew the note from his pocket and 
said, without any preface: “I met Captain Cunningham, 
when I was out riding just now, and he asked me to give 
you this.” 

He did not look at her as he spoke, not wishing to de- 
tect signs of pleasure or embarrassment upon her features. 
He thought it probable that she would display some such 
emotion; but he was very far from being prepared for what 
she actually did. She sprung to her feet, exclaiming, “ Mr. 
Stiles!” in a tone which forced him to raise his eyes. Per- 
haps he looked guilty; at any rate, she thought he did, and 
her indignation increased. 

“If you care at all about the friendship that we were 
speaking of just now, you will never do such a thing 


A bachelor’s blunder. 263 

again!” she cried. Then she tore the letter across and 
across and threw the fragments away from her. 

She had acted upon an angry impulse, and it was not 
long before she saw what a very foolish thing she had done* 
Jacob’s amazed face and one moment of reflection sufficed 
to show her that, and she made a desperate and entirely 
futile effort to recover her lost position, saying, with a 
forced laugh : “ You did not know what a bad temper I 
have, did you? Captain Cunningham and I had a — sort 
of quarrel the other day, and I suppose this is a letter of 
apology. I hate apologies; but I ought not to have torn 
up his note. Please forget my silly behavior.” 

“Of course — of course. It is as if it had never hap- 
pened,” answered Jacob, hardly knowing what he said. 
“If you and Captain Cunningham quarreled, I am sure 
that it was he who was in the wrong; but I will certainly 
carry no more messages for him.” 

With characteristic prudence he stooped and picked up 
the scraps of paper before the wind bore them away. “ Had 
you not better burn them?” he suggested. 

Had he had all his wits about him he would scarcely 
have made such a speech; but, fortunately, Hope was quite 
as much confused as he, and did not perceive the full sig- 
nificance of it. “ Yes,” she replied, taking the fragments 
from him, hastily — “ or rather, no; I had better put them 
together again and see what he has to say.” 

It was not until she had regained the house and her own 
room that she realized how unequivocally she had betrayed 
what ought to have remained a profound secret. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

DICK IS QUITE CANDID. 

Hope locked her door and pieced together the torn strips 
of Bertie’s letter, which was a somewhat lengthy one, fill- 
ing all four sides of a sheet of note-paper. In substance it 
proved to be much what she had anticipated, and was not 
badly worded, considering the disadvantages under which 
the writer must have labored in composing it. He called 
himself many bad names, he confessed that his conduct 
had been utterly inexcusable, and then proceeded to plead 
the usual excuses. He had tried so hard and so long to 


264 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


conceal the truth; it had been wrung from him in a mo- 
ment of weakness and overwhelming temptation which no 
one could regret more deeply than he did. He could not 
expect that she, whose sense of duty was so strong, should 
be able to make allowance for an unlucky wretch, who was 
always doing the things that he ought not to do; nor would 
he venture to ask for forgiveness. Only he did beg her to 
consider whether (seeing that his offense could by no pos- 
sibility be repeated) they might not meet again with an 
outward show of cordiality. Surely, for everybody’s sake 
(these words were heavily underscored), that would be the 
best and wisest plan; and he would undertake to inflict as 
little of his society upon her as might be. 

There was a good deal more to the like effect, and when 
Hope had read it all she was in some degree mollified, feel- 
ing that Captain Cunningham had at least expressed him- 
self respectfully and remorsefully. But on a second perusal 
of his effort she was not quite so well pleased with it. 
Throughout it there ran a suggestion — not put into words, 
yet discernible — that it was only her sense of duty that had 
prevented her from responding to his declaration in a 
different manner. 44 Fate has treated us very cruelly,” he 
had written in one place, and had then drawn his pen 
through the word 44 us ” and substituted 44 me.” She did 
not like that. And then, again, it was evident that his 
chief desire was to avoid exposure and scandal. Stripped 
of its flourishes the letter simply amounted to this: 44 1 
have been very unfortunate and also, if you choose, very 
culpable; but I shall not shock you by speaking plainly a 
second time, and therefore I trust that you will have suffi- 
cient savoir vivre to keep your own counsel and let the 
matter drop.” 

She laughed a little bitterly as she destroyed his effusion, 
to which she resolved to send no reply. The situation out 
of which she had been disposed to make a tragedy was al- 
most comic, after all. The .calm, selfish common sense: 
displayed by all concerned in it, except herself, partly pro- 
voked and partly amused her — the former rather more than 
the latter, perhaps. She had been apprehensive lest her 
husband should lay violent hands upon the man who had 
insulted her; yet she had not been altogether pleased by 
the promptitude of his assurance that he intended doing 
nothing so unnecessary. Prudence is an excellent quality; 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


265 


but it is not exactly one of the attributes of a hero, and 
most women prefer men who have a spice of the heroic in 
their composition. For Dick there was something to be 
said, since it had not been with a view to his own comfort 
alone that he had decided to steer clear of a disturbance; 
but as for Bertie Cunningham, who had not even the poor 
courage of his iniquity, and who apparently did not object 
to being regarded with contempt, so long as the contempt 
was veiled from the eyes of society, he was a very pitiable 
creature. That was Hope’s deliberate judgment upon him; 
and probably it was not much less just then the generality 
of judgments that are delivered publicly and privately in 
this uneven world. 

On the day following Dick left for Portsmouth, after 
briefly mentioning that it would take him about a week to 
see to the fitting out of the yacht, and so Hope and Carry 
were left to entertain one another. This they did to their 
mutual satisfaction by leaving one another very much 
alone. It was a fortunate as well as a somewhat singular 
circumstance that Miss Herbert was not, and never had 
been, jealous of her sister-in-law. She did not think Hope 
at all the sort of person who would be likely to fascinate 
Bertie. His delight, as she had painful reason to know, 
was in quiet, safe flirtations, and Hope appeared to her to 
be ignorant of the very first principles of the art of flirting. 
Bertie would never trouble himself to pay much attention 
to a woman of that stamp, however great might be her 
beauty. Moreover, Bertie had taken very good care not to 
do so when Carry was looking on. Therefore, although at 
this time she was not a little anxious and disturbed in 
mind, her anxiety took no aggressive form; nor, when they 
met, did Hope find her disagreeable, unwelcome though a 
good deal of her conversation was. « 

“I suppose,” she remarked, interrogatively, one day at 
luncheon, “ you don’t mean to go yachting with Dick?” 

“ I have not been asked yet,” Hope replied. 

“ Do you wait for an invitation? If you are so far hon- 
ored as to receive one, let me advise you to decline it. Dick 
isn’t a fair-weather sailor; nothing would induce him to go 
pottering round the coast from regatta to regatta. His 
notion of enjoyable yachting is being caught in a gale in 
the Bay of Biscay and having to lie to for forty-eight 
hours. He is never thoroughly happy unless tons of water 


266 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


are pouring over the decks and cooking anything is quite 
out of the question.” 

“ Yet I think I remember his telling me that he didn t 
like stormy weather/’ observed Hope. 

“ Ah! that confirms my suspicions. It always seemed 
to me impossible that any sane being could have such per- 
verted tastes, and as he has never yet taken me out without 
half drowning me, I presume that his object must have 
been to disgust me with the sea. Perhaps you have dis- 
covered b} 7 this time that Dick is not fond of having women 
about when he is amusing himself.” 

“ You make him out very selfish.” 

“ I never kneyv a man who was not; only Dick’s selfish- 
ness is more undisguised than other men’s. I don’t say so 
to annoy you, you know.” 

“ You do not annoy me in the least,” answered Hope, 
quite truthfully. 

Whether her husband was or was not more selfish than 
other men, he had convinced her that her company was no 
addition to his enjoyment, and she had not the least inten- 
tion of taking part in any cruise that he might be contem- 
plating. Things being as they were, she was inclined to 
hope that his cruise would be a prolonged x>ne. Neverthe- 
less, she was wholly unprepared for the announcement that 
he made on his return, after an absence of ten days. 

“ I’m going to take the yacht across the Atlantic,” he 
said, as coolly as if he had been talking of taking her across 
the Channel. “ Francis and I are bound for Wyoming to 
shoot wapiti, and we might as well do the voyage comfort- 
ably, as we have plenty of time before us. I hate a steamer. ” 

What was implied in shooting wapiti in Wyoming Hope 
did not quite realize at first; but the thought of the time 
likely to be consumedTn a voyage across the Atlantic under 
sail rather took her breath away. ‘ 4 You won’t be back 
for some months, then?” she said, with a slight quiver in 
her voice. 

“ Well, no. In fact, I suppose I may say that we sha’n’t 
be back for a year, at least. The winter is out and out the 
best season for sport in the Rockies, you see. That is, of 
course, for those who don’t mind roughing it a bit. I 
should never think of taking an untried companion into 
those parts; but with Francis I know I’m all right. I’ve 


A bachelor's blunder. 


267 


seen him in more than one awkward place before now, and 
I can tell you that he is a good deal tougher than he looks." 

But the question of Mr. Francis's toughness or tender- 
ness was one more likely to interest the grizzly bears of the 
Rocky Mountains than Hope. She paid no heed to, and 
scarcely heard, the list of that gentleman's valuable quali- 
ties which Hick now proceeded to unfold, having, indeed, 
enough to do to hide her consternation and collect her 
scattered ideas. To conceal emotion is not always the 
wisest of courses; but it is that which commends itself to 
most of us at critical moments, and Hope had reasons 
which, if not good ones, were at least easily comprehensible 
for wishing to assume an appearance of indifference. That 
she had reached a crisis in her life she was quite aware — 
indeed, that was the one thing of which she was clearly 
conscious in the midst of her anger and bewilderment; and 
it was only because she did perceive this that she refrained 
from letting her husband take his own way without a word 
of expostulation. 

44 Have you quite decided upon making this expedition?" 
she asked, as soon as she felt that she could command her 
voice. 

44 I have so far decided that I have made most of my 
arrangements," answered Hick. 44 They can be unmade, 
if necessary; but I have thought it all over carefully, and I 
believe it is the best thing to do — in every way." 

“ It seems to me," said Hope, 4 4 that there are one or 
two considerations which you can hardly have taken into 
account. They may not be very important; still, such as 
they are, they have to be reckoned with. Have you thought, 
for instance, of the gossip that there will be about your 
hurrying away for an indefinite time scarcely a year after 
your marriage?" 

Hick shrugged his shoulders. 44 Oh, yes, I have thought 
of that. It's a bore; but it's unavoidable. Besides, you 
know, I have the character of being rather a queer sort of 
specimen. People won't think it quite so odd in me as 
they would in anybody else. " 

44 And if they do, you will be a good many thousand 
miles away, so that it will not affect you much. I 
wouldn't have mentioned it, only I fancied that you set 
rather a high value upon the good opinion of Lady Chat- 
terton and the rest of them. And then, has it not struck 


268 a bachelor’s blunder. 

you that I shall be a little bit awkwardly placed during 
your absence ?" 

44 In what way do you mean?" 

Hope had a momentary difficulty in replying, so he went 
on: “I really don't think you will. You will continue to 
live just as you have done— or rather, you will live differ- 
ently, if you prefer it. As far as money goes, there will be 
no difficulty, for I will take care that you shall not be 
troubled about that, and of course there will be nothing to 
prevent your going into society and receiving your friends 
as much as you please." 

44 I can't agree with you there," answered Hope; “ but 
that is of no consequence." She stopped ^hort rather sud- 
denly. She had several very cutting little speeches at the 
tip of her tongue; but somehow she could not get them out. 

Hick glanced quickly at her. 4 4 Look here, Hope, " he 
said, 44 if you had rather 1 didn't go, you have only to say 
so." 

44 It is not a question of that," she returned. And then, 
with a slight change of tone, 44 Go hy all means; only I 
don't quite understand why you are going. If it is for the 
sake of sport, I have nothing more to say; but if it is for 
any other reason, I think I ought to be told of it." 

Dick looked down, frowning a little. 44 Hadn't we bet- 
ter assume that it is for the sake of sport?" he asked. 

44 Why should we assume anything except the truth? I 
don't know what you mean. You seem to imply that I have 
done something wrong and must bo punished for it, and 
you speak as though you were too generous to reproach 
me. I will not submit to that. If I am to be accused at 
all, let me be accused openly. " 

This was by no means what Hope had intended to say 
when the conversation began; but as her husband's mo- 
tives for deserting her became more apparent her sense of 
injury increased, and she felt that she was at least entitled 
to an explanation. 

To so direct a challenge Dick could not refuse to re- 
spond; but it was with obvious reluctance that he answered: 
44 1 can put things in black and white if you insist upon it; 
but it seems to me to be needless. There are subjects 
which are best not entered into between friends." 

44 That is the exact contrary of what I have always heard 
you maintain." 


a bachelor's bluhder. 


269 


“ I think not. Certainly there ought to be a clear under- 
standing — " 

“ Well, there is no understanding in this case. At least, 
there is none on my side." 

Dick sighed. “ All right, then," he said; “I'll be 
quite candid. It is true that I do want to shoot wapiti and 
bighorn. I shall like going out there again, and I believe 
it will do me a lot of good; but of course I shouldn't have 
thought of this expedition if it hadn't been for what you 
told me the other day. Under the circumstances, I think 
it is wiser for me to take myself off for a bit, that's the 
long and the short of it. I am very sorry if my leaving 
you looks to you like an accusation against yourself; but it 
never occurred to me that you could see it in that light. I 
told you at the time — and I can do more than repeat what 
I said — that you had acted as honorably as it was possible 
to act; and as for punishment — well, surely you will hardly 
feel my absence as a punishment." 

He paused and looked questioningly at Hope, who replied : 
“ Your friends will probably think that it is meant so." 

“ I assure you they will think no such thing. You make 
me say what I would much rather not say. When a man 
goes off to the wilds, as I am going now, is it his wife 
whom people blame? Don't they know perfectly well that 
that would be the last thing he would do if he had any rea- 
son to suspect her of being untrue to him? They may say 
he has been quarreling with her, and they may call him a 
selfish brute; but they must either set him down as an 
absolute idiot or acknowledge that he trusts her entirely. 
However, as I said before, I am willing to give the whole 
thing up, if you would prefer my remaining in .England. " 

“ No," answered Hope, slowly; “ I should be sorry to 
deprive you of your enjoyment. It was foolish of me to 
talk of your wanting to punish me; I might have known — 
but we will say no more about it. It was only because I 
was a little startled just at first. After all, you are a bet- 
ter judge than I of what people will say, and .1 dare say 
you are right in deciding that we should part for a time . 99 

“ I'm sure you'll agree with me when you have thought 
it over," Dick declared, with evident relief. And then, 
drawing a little nearer to her, “ Hope, my dear," he said, 
kindly, “ the beginning and end of the whole business is 
that we have made a mistake. Or, rather, it is I who 


270 A BACHELOR V BLUNDER. 

made the mistake, for yon never really wished to marry 
me. In one sense it is irreparable, because we must con- 
tinue to be man and wife until one of us dies; but — ” 

“ But we can be so as little as possible.* 5 ” 

“ That was not what I was going to say , 33 observed Dick. 

“ But it was what you meant. I wonder whether you 
would mind telling me something.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ Only a piece of idle curiosity. Was it Mr. Francis who 
advised you to go to America?” 

“ Not he,” answered Dick, laughing a little. “On 
the contrary, he was dead against it — did all he could to 
make me give the thing up, until he saw that I was de- 
termined. ” 

“ He did all he could to make you give up the idea of 
marrying, didn't he?” asked Hope. “If I remember 
rightly, he was dead against that too.” 

This Dick could not deny: and Hope resumed: “ Well, 
he will be able to triumph now. He has made no mistake, 
whatever other people may have done.” 

But Francis, when he came down to stay at Farndon — as 
he did a few days after this — wore anything but a triumph- 
ant aspect. He was grave and subdued, spoke little, and 
gave Hope no opportunity of quarreling with him, which 
she had been half-prepared to do. She had never liked the 
man, feeling sure that he had never liked her; nor did his 
present reserved attitude advance him in her good graces. 
His face said, as plainly as faces can speak, that he consid- 
ered this temporary separation between husband and wife a 
serious affair, and deplored it as a misfortune for his 
friend. That he blamed her, Hope was convinced: and 
she would have been almost better pleased if he had said so 
openly, instead of sitting silent, listening, observing, and 
evidently trying to get at the rights of a mysterious matter. 

Carry, too, did not behave as might have been antici- 
pated. She heard the news of Dick's impending journey 
without apparent surprise and with very little in the way 
of remark; but her manner toward Hope became somewhat 
softened, and it was easy to see that she pitied her sister-in- 
law — which was nearly as bad as condemning her. In 
truth Hope was rather hard to please at this time. Per- 
haps the generality of women would have been so in her 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 27 1 

place, and perhaps, if she was a little petulant every now 
and then, allowances might very well be made for her. 

Allowances were made for her both by Miss Herbert and 
by Mr. Francis, although neither of them happened quite 
to understand the nature of her case. They talked it over 
together one afternoon, when Dick had gone up to London 
to hurry the tradespeople who were preparing his impedi- 
menta, , and when Hope, who of late had been testing the 
value of Tristram's recipe, was hard at work in Jacob 
Stiles's studio. 

“I wish to goodness your brother could be induced to 
drop this precious scheme of his!" Francis said. ‘ 4 It's 
all wrong, you know." 

Carry made a grimace. “ It is what was morally bound 
to happen. Candidly speaking, I think it is rather too bad 
of Dick; but there's no use in saying so. If people will 
marry nomads, they must be prepared for the natural con- 
sequences." 

“ As far as that goes, when nomads marry, they should 
be prepared to change their manner of life. But it isn't 
nomadic instinct that is taking Herbert away from Eng- 
land now." 

“ Isn't it?" said Carry, raising her eyebrows slightly. 
“ I don't know of anything else that should take him 
away." 

Francis glanced at her with a half-amused, half-puzzled 
expression. 4 4 Do you really mean that?" he asked. 

“ Certainty I do. There has been no dissension that I 
am aware of. They are not quite as devoted as they were 
just after the honey-moon; but that's of course. After all, 
it isn't an altogether unheard-of thing for a husband to go 
off on a shooting expedition and leave his wife at home. 
Hope is annoyed and I don't wonder at it; most likely I 
should be annoyed myself if my husband treated me so 
cavalierly. But then I should never choose a man like Dick 
for my husband." 

Francis was no longer very young. He had lived in the 
world, with all his faculties of observation on the alert, for 
a considerable number of years; he knew that nearly ail 
difficulties end by arranging themselves, and that even 
when they do not, the consequences are seldom tragic. For 
men and women are only grown-up children, and with the 
former as with the latter grief, pain, anger, and the rest of 


272 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


the emotions are sure to be followed in due course by con- 
solation and oblivion; it is only a question of substituting 
weeks or months for hours. Nevertheless,, there are ex- 
ceptions. There are people — quiet, reticent sort of people 
most of them — who never forget, and can’t be consoled; 
and because Francis believed that his friend Herbert was 
one of these, and also because he was very fond of his friend 
Herbert, he permitted himself to say what he felt to be an 
imprudent thing. 

44 Certainly there is nothing unheard-of in a husband 
leaving his wife for a year or more,” he agreed; 4 4 1 know 
of many instances in which it has been done. And I know 
that in several of those instances the result has been calam- 
itous.” 

Carry laughed. 44 You may make your mind easy,” she 
said, 44 Hope is not the kind of woman to fall into calam- 
ity.” 

44 But the same thing might have been said in more than 
one of the cases that I am thinking of. ” 

44 You mean that it might have been said by people 
who didn’t know what they were talking about. I have 
had the privilege of being acquainted with my sister-in-law 
*for a year, and I can assure you that whatever her failings 
may be, want of pride is not one of them. Besides, she 
does not seem to form intimacies readily. The only person 
to whom she has taken a marked fancy as yet is Jacob 
Stiles, and I suppose you will hardly call Jacob Stiles dan- 
gerous. ” 

Francis held his peace, marveling inwardly at the obtuse- 
ness of a woman who was reputed to be clever and whose 
infatuation for Cunningham was notorious. It was true 
that she had not been in London during the past season, 
and was probably ignorant of a great deal that had been 
said there; but Cunningham had been at Farndon both be- 
fore and since, and surely she might have suspected what 
was no secret among Cunningham’s acquaintances. How- 
ever, since she apparently had not, it was plainly impossi- 
ble that he should enlighten her. 

44 You won’t try to keep Herbert at home, then?” he 
said. 

44 My dear Francis, do you suppose that Hick would al- 
low himself to be kept at home by me? If anybody could 
influence him, I should say that it" would be you.” 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


273 


“ I have used such influence as I have; but there are 
certain arguments which a man can't employ toward his 
friend, though a sister might toward her brother." 

“So you think that Dick would listen to me if I told 
him that he had better remain on the spot, lest his wife 
should elope with some person unknown. I am quite cer- 
tain that he would not listen to me, and I very much doubt 
whether you yourself believe in any such danger. Why 
don't you want him to go? I thought you enjoyed shoot- 
ing bears and getting frost-bitten and running the risk of 
losing your scalp. " 

44 I have an impression that we shall not enjoy ourselves 
this time," answered Francis; 44 and I have also — I am 
glad to say — an impression that Mrs. Herbert doesn't much 
enjoy the prospect of our departure." 

44 I don't think she does, poor thing!" agreed Carry, 
with a shade of contempt. 44 But, as I said before, this 
was morally bound to happen sooner or later. She will 
become reconciled to her fate, which isn't such a particu- 
larly hard one. I can imagine a worse." 

44 So can I," said Francis, 44 but, to tell the truth, it is 
not so much in her fate that I am interested as in Dick's." 

Carry did not in the least understand what he was driv- 
ing at; but as she felt no special curiosity upon the point, 
she forbore to question him; and so Francis's forlorn hope 
that her jealousy might prove more powerful than his elo- 
quence was extinguished. 


CHAPTER XXXH. 
farewell! 

The exercise of an art — no matter of what nature it be 
— is, beyond doubt, one of the surest consolations that are 
open to afflicted humanity; and Tristram, who had had 
great troubles in the course of his life and had taken them 
deeply to heart, had spoken with all the authority of per- 
sonal experience in insisting so much upon this unquestion- 
able truth. Yet, if he had remembered and related the 
whole of his experience, he would have had to confess that 
there had been days during which the panacea had availed 
him nothing — days of suspense and restlessness and nerv- 
ous irritation, when he had either flung his brushes down in 


274 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


despair or had forced himself to work against the grain, 
thereby producing bad work, which he knew all the time 
to be bad, and increasing his misery, instead of allaying 
it. And this was precisely what now befell Hope. She 
tried Tristram’s panacea in her hour of need, and it failed 
altogether. Such skill as she had once had seemed to have 
completely deserted her; her drawing was ridiculously 
faulty, and she found it impossible to fix her mind upon 
what she was doing. Nor did she derive any comfort from 
the praise which Jacob unblushingly lavished upon her 
worst endeavors. She did him the justice to admit that his 
insincerity was prompted by kindness and commiseration, 
and therefore refrained from snubbing him, as she was 
often sorely tempted to do; but it was hardly in human 
nature — at any rate, it was not in her nature — to like being 
commiserated by Jacob. Indeed, what exasperated her be- 
yond everything was the thought that she was in a position 
to be commiserated at all. Why should she be so sorry 
that Dick was going away? He was not sorry; and even 
when he was at home, she saw little enough of him now. 
Moreover, he was no longer what he had been in the early 
days of their married life. His manner had become formal 
and reserved; he seemed to consider that she had wronged 
him, although he had verbally acquitted her of all blame; 
he had told her unequivocally that their marriage had been 
a mistake. She ought to be glad to get rid of him, and 
once or twice she said to herself that she was glad. This 
assertion, however, was not niacle more than once or twice. 
Had she been able to make it to him it might have relieved 
her; but there was no use in the world in making it to her- 
self, because she knew very well' that it was untrue. She 
knew very well that she would miss him at every turn; she 
realized — not without some sensation of surprise — how she 
had learned to lean upon him, how much she had counted 
upon his unwearied patience and good temper, and how 
forlorn she would be without him. 

And, after all, she did not yet understand why he was 
leaving her. As far as she was able to make him out, it 
was partly because he had become convinced that they were 
not suited to each other, and partly because he had really 
had a hankering after sport in the backwoods. He had 
been pleased to hint — and she had been too proud to con- 
tradict him more than once — that she cared for Bertie 


A BACHELOR^ BLUNDER. 


275 


Cunningham; but be had not seemed to think that it mat- 
tered very much if she did. It could scarcely be on that 
account that he had decided upon an expedition which he 
had offered to abandon if she desired it. In the depths of 
her heart sbe believed that, by speaking a few words, she 
might induce him to abandon it even now; and, to tell the 
truth, her chief reason for spending hour after hour in 
Jacob's studio and sticking doggedly to painting was the 
fear that she felt lest in a moment of 'weakness she should 
be led into saying those words. Better a thousand times 
that Dick should go than that she should detain him in 
England against his will and his judgment. 

So the long summer days slipped away, while Hope, in- 
wardly tormenting herself with doubts, conjectures, and 
imaginings, preserved an exterior as impassive as her hus- 
band's, while Dick pushed forward his preparations, and 
while Francis and Carry amused themselves together as 
best they could — which was not very well. It had been 
arranged that Francis should stay on until all was ready for 
a start, and that the two men should leave together. Very 
soon the date of their departure was fixed, and very soon 
indeed after that (as it seemed to Hope) the day itself 
dawned. It found her with an aching head, cold hands, 
and a heart as heavy as lead. Since her father's death she 
had never felt so utterly miserable, and when she appeared 
at breakfast she did not even attempt to assume a cheerful 
bearing. At that last moment it could be of very little 
consequence whether she looked cheerful or not. The 
others avoided speaking to her; they themselves appeared 
to be a good deal depressed, and the conversation languished. 
Even Dick, who had hitherto shown no sign of care, was 
obviously worried and anxious, and could not manage to eat 
much. 

When they had all risen and were leaving the room, he 
touched Hope on the elbow and signed to her to follow him 
into his den. “ Just a few last instructions," he said, as 
he closed the door behind her. 

Then he placed a chair for her, sat down beside his writ- 
ing-table, and, taking up a slip of paper that was lying 
upon it, began to explain rapidly the provisions that he had 
made for her expenditure during his absence. The figures 
struck Hope as being needlessly large. 

“ I shall never spend anything like that.," she said. 


276 


A BACHELOK'S BLUNDEK. 


“ Well, it will be all the better if you don't; but it won't 
much matter if you do. You need not trouble yourself 
about it one way or the other. I thought the best plan 
would be to open a separate account for you at the bank 
while I was away, and this paper will show you exactly 
what you will have to draw upon. I have disposed of all the 
horses that I had in training, and I have let a good part of 
the shooting. There will be quite enough left for any 
friends whom you may want to ask down in the autumn. " 

“ That sounds like going away fora long time," observed 
Hope, with a faint smile. 

“ Oh, I shall be away all the winter, of course." He 
paused for a moment, stroking his mustache. “ There's 
another thing which ought just to be mentioned, perhaps," 
he resumed presently; “ it is on the cards that I may never 
come back at all." 

“ Oh, Dick!" ejaculated Hope involuntarily under her 
breath. 

But he went on, without seeming to have heard her in- 
terruption: “ I have shot a good many grizzlies before now 
and never been in danger from them to speak Of; but they 
are awkward beasts if you don 't happen to kill them quite 
soon enough and if there isn't a tree handy. Then, again, 
there is the off chance of being frozen to death or rolling 
over a precipice and breaking one's neck. None of these 
things are over and above likely to happen; still, if any- 
thing does happen to me, you'll be all right. I have left 
you everything that I have it in my power .to leave, and — ' ' 

“ How can you talk in that way!" exclaimed Hope, start- 
ing up. “ Do you think I don't care whether you die or 
live?" 

“I am sure you would be sorry if I died," answered 
Dick, laughing a little; “ I didn't mean to imply a doubt 
of that. But I shall die none the sooner for having left 
things ship-shape; and in case I do — " 

He stopped; and Hope, with the old feeling of irritation 
which his speeches were so apt to arouse in her, said, 
<( Well, in case you do, what then?" 

“ Then I think you may be glad to remember that I wish 
you to dispose of your future exactly as may seem best to 
you. I am not going to make any conditions; I won't even 
offer you a word of advice about it." 


A bachelor's bluhber. 277 

44 Won't you tell me what you would adviser" asked 
Hope; for indeed she was somewhat curious to hear. 

“No; it might not be what you would like, and then 
afterward it might worry you to disregard it. Well— I 
think that's about all." 

There was a brief space of silence, and then Hope said: 
“ Have you no orders or instructions of any kind to give 
me? I would so much rather be told exactly what I am to 
do when I am left alone. " 

Dick shook his head. 44 1 don't know what you may 
want to do. I can't tell you to stay here a certain dumber 
of months, and move up to London on a particular date, or 
make out a list of houses that you may stay at and people 
whom you may ask here." 

44 But that is just what I should like you to do," said 
Hope. 44 1 used to wish for independence once — do you 
remember? — *but now that I have got it, I don't think I 
care much about it. It would really be a kindness if you 
would let me feel that I have some duty or other to per- 
form. I should find a sort of satisfaction in being able to 
say to people, 4 My husband told me to do this,' or 4 My 
husband said I wasn't to do that.' " 

44 All right, then; I'll go so far as to say that I would 
rather you didn't hunt next winter." 

44 1 never dreamed of such a thing. Is there nothing 
else?" 

Dick looked meditative. It was pretty clear that there 
was something else, but that he had not quite made up his 
mind whether he should mention it or not. He rose and 
took a turn or two up and down the room with his hands 
behind his back. 

44 Won't you tell me?" asked Hope presently. 

He seated himself sideways on the table, facing her, and 
began: 44 This isn't an instruction, you know, still less an 
order: it's — what shall I say? — an expression of opinion. 
You needn't be guided by it, unless you like. What I was 
thinking was that perhaps it might be better if you didn't 
have Cunningham to stay in the house again." 

Hope colored furiously. How could he imagine that she 
could wish to have Captain Cunningham in the house! For 
the moment she was unable to find any words to answer him, 
and he went on, considerately averting his eyes from her 
face: 44 1 just mention it because I know Carry will want 


278 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


you to ask him, and I doubt whether it would be altogether 
comfortable for you to have him here. I dare say you know 
that his battalion has left Windsor.” 

“ I know nothing whatever about it,” Hope managed to 
say, in a rather unsteady voice. 

“ Yes; they're off to Dublin, and, all things considered, 
Dm not sorry for it. Now we will say no more upon that 
subject. ” 

“ It is a hateful subject, and I should be only too glad to 
drop it forever,” returned Hope; “ but I wish you at least 
to belieVe that nothing would induce me to receive Captain 
Cunningham as my guest.” 

“Yes, yes; I quite understand that,” said Dick, sooth- 
ingly; and it angered her to see how anxious he was to 
avoid anything like a scene. “ Dor your own sake, of course, 
you wouldn’t wish to receive him; but Carry will probably 
press you. In fact, you may be obliged to give in, because 
you can't bring forward any plausible reason for refusing. 
All I meant to say was that I wouldn't, if I were you, give 
in unless it seemed unavoidable. Well; I suppose we ought 
to be thinking about saying good-bye.” 

There was a perceptible change in his voice as he uttered 
the last sentence. He was evidently apprehensive; and so, 
for that matter, was Hope. It certainly was nearly time 
to say good-bye; but how was good-bye to be said? “You 
need not start yet, need you?” she faltered, more for the 
sake of gaining a respite and tightening her hold upon her- 
self than from any wish to detain him as long as possible. 

Dick looked at his watch. “We have nearly a quarter 
of an hour,” he answered; “ but I must say a word or two 
to Carry before I go — and I sha'n't see you alone again.” 

Hope drew a long breath. “ Good-bye, then,” she said, 
and held out her hand to him. 

He took it in his, and stood looking down upon her for 
an instant with kindly, rather sorrowful eyes. What he 
was thinking she could not tell; but he fancied that he, like 
the others, pitied her, and that was intolerable. She tried 
to draw away her hand; but he held it fast. 

“ How cold you are!” he exclaimed. “ What business 
have you to be cold on such a fine, hot day?” And then 
suddenly — “ Wliy, Hope, what is it? My dear girl, you 
mustn't distress yourself like this. ” 

Dor Hope had broken down altogether, in spite of her 


- * 

A bachelor's blunder. 279 

determination to be calm and dignified and to spare him 
the scene which she knew that he dreaded. She was trem- 
bling from head to foot, and the tears filled her eyes, 
brimmed over, and ran down her cheeks. “ I don't want 
you to go!" she gasped piteously. (i I don't want you to 
go and — and be killed by grizzly bears!" And then she 
burst out laughing at herself and could not stop, though 
her laughter was broken by sobs. 

Dick laughed too. “ What nonsense!" he exclaimed, 
cheerfully; and if there was a slight tremor in his own 
voice, Hope was far too agitated to notice it. “ I ought 
not to have said anything about the grizzlies. They are 
very much more likely to be killed by me than I am to be 
killed by them, I can assure you. In fact, we are not 
undertaking what anybody could call a dangerous expedi- 
tion, and we shall be back again before you know where 
you are. A year is soon over. " 

Hope shook her head despairingly. “I don't think so 
— I think a year is an immense time. Besides, you said it 
might be more than a year. Must you go, Dick?" 

“ Oh, yes," he answered, hastily but decisively, “ I must 
go now; it is too late to change our minds. And we should 
regret it if we did; I am sure of that. You are upset just 
now; but afterward you will see that it was the best thing 
to do." He bent down over her and kissed her forehead. 
“ Good-bye, my dear, and God bless you!" he said. Then 
he turned and made as though he would have left the room; 
but Hope clung to his arm. 

“You will write to me, won't you, Dick?" she asked. 

“ What a question! Of course I will, and I'll telegraph 
as soon as we reach New York. You must write to me too 
— -when you're inclined, you know — and tell me all you are 
doing. We shall not be able to write or receive letters 
very regularly; but I'll keep the communications open as 
well as I can. When you don't hear, you may take it for 
granted that we are all right. If any misfortune happens, 
the news will reach you fast enough. Now I really ought 
to go and look for Carry. " 

As soon as he had effected his escape Hope resolutely 
swallowed down her tears. She had still a short time left 
in which to compose herself, and she dismissed from her 
mind every consideration except the paramount one of pre- 
senting a moderately creditable appearance at the last mo- 


/ 


280 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


ment. When once the dog-cart should have driven away 
she would be at liberty to go to her own room and indulge 
her grief as much as she pleased. ' And so, when she 
emerged into the hall, the inquisitive eyes of the servants 
assembled there discovered nothing more than that she had 
been crying; and that they probably thought only decent, 
under the circumstances. The sunshine was streaming 
through the open door, where Dick, Francis, and Carry 
were standing; beyond them Hope could see the red wheels 
of the dog-cart. 

“ Oh, there you are!” called out Dick, who was lighting 
a cigar. “ I was just going to send for you. Now, 
Francis, you might as well jump in; we haven’t too much 
time. Good-bye, everybody; pray for easterly breezes, and 
don’t flatter yourselves that we have gone to the bottom of 
the sea if you hear nothing of us for a month. ” He had 
assumed a brisk, bustling demeanor which sat rather oddly 
upon him. “ Where’s Jake?” he asked suddenly. “ Run 
and look for him, somebody. Confound the fellow! what 
does he mean by hiding himself?” 

A footman darted upstairs and presently returned, cast- 
ing indignant glances over his shoulder at Jacob, who fol- 
lowed him with swift, noiseless steps. Dick had already 
climbed into the dog-cart. He bent down, stretching out 
his hand to the young man, who stood bare-headed in the 
sunshine. 

“ Good-bye, Jake,” Hope heard him say. “ Don’t get 
made president of the Royal Academy before I come back, 
because I should like to assist at the inaugural banquet. 
In tlje meantime, if you want novelty in the way of sub- 
jects, you had better come out to Denver or Cheyenne and 
ask for us. We are sure to be somewhere or other within a 
thousand miles or so, and I dare say you’ll find us, if you 
look about.” 

This good-humored jocularity, which seemed to be a 
little forced, provoked no responsive smile upon Jacob’s 
grave and rather sullen countenance. “ I hope you will 
have good sport,” he said shortly, and drew back without 
another word. 

Then Dick gathered up the reins, the groom sprung back 
from the horse’s head, and in another moment the dog-cart 
was bowling down the avenue at a smart pace, while Hope, 
motionless in the door- way, stood gazing after it. Carry 


A BACHELOR’S BLtTHDER. 


281 


said something about its being unlucky to watch people out 
of sight; but in spite of that remonstrance she remained 
where she was until Dick, having reached the point at 
which the road branched off at right angles, waved his hat 
as a last farewell, and so vanished. 

Hope turned round and found that she was alone. Carry 
had gone back into the house, as had also Jacob and the 
servants. Before following their example, she looked out 
once more at the broad, sunny landscape, the air quivering 
with the heat, the bright-colored flower-beds, with the but- 
terflies hovering over them, and the undulating park be- 
yond; and as she looked, the memory of her first morning 
at Farndon came vividly back to her. How long ago that 
seemed ! and what a change had come over her life in one 
brief year! Assuredly it had been with no extravagant 
anticipations of happiness that she had started; but she had 
thought that a peaceful, easy, and not unpleasant sort of 
existence lay before her, and she remembered to have made 
some good resolutions which she had tried to keep. Whose 
fault was it that the whole business had ended in utter, 
irremediable failure? How had it come to pass that two 
people who had married without illusions and with what had 
appeared to be a perfect mutual understanding had so soon 
been reduced to the dismal and almost ludicrous shift of 
placing the Atlantic Ocean between them? Somebody, 
surely, must be to blame for such a state of things. And 
yet, perhaps, nobody was exactly to blame, and the catas- 
trophe was the natural outcome of a marriage contract en- 
tered into upon those terms. What did not strike Hope as 
odd was the fact that she should consider what had hap- 
pened a catastrophe at all. Dick had said from the very * 
first that he would probably be a good deal away from 
home; and that much Hope might have recollected (al- 
though for the moment she did not) ; because it is easy 
enough for people who have tolerably good memories to 
recall matters of fact. But, on the other hand, there is 
nothing in the world more difficult to realize or even be- 
lieve in than a state of feeling which has passed away; and 
that is why Hope, after she had mounted the stairs to her 
bedroom, with a slow, dragging step, and had locked the 
door behind her, flung herself down upon a sofa and gave 
way to despair. 

“ Oh, Dick!” she moaned aloud, “ how could you be so 


282 a bachelor's blunder. 

cruel to me — how could you leave me, when I love you 
so?" 

It was the first time that she had made this confession to 
herself in so many words, and the sound of it startled her 
a little, though she had been vaguely conscious of the truth 
for some time, past. Of course she loved him. She had 
loved him all along— certainly ever since her marriage; 
perhaps even before. It was because she loved him that 
his placid good-humor had so provoked her, and that she 
had sometimes assailed him with sharp speeches; it was be- 
cause she loved him that she had so bitterly resented his 
insinuation that she could care for Bertie Cunningham; it 
was because she loved him, and knew that he had only a 
lukewarm sort of friendship for her, that she had refrained 
from entreating him to abandon this journey, from which 
he might never return. She saw it all now, but of course, 
even if she had seen it sooner, she could not have acted 
otherwise than as she had done. What use or object would 
there have been in keeping him by her side, knowing all 
the time that he preferred the society of trappers and red 
Indians to hers? And then she remembered, with a sharp 
twinge of jealousy, that he had admitted having been in 
love once. He was just the sort of man who would be in- 
capable of falling in love a second time. 

“ And I don't believe he even feels the friendship for me 
that he used to feel," murmured poor Hope. “ He thinks 
we are not suited to each other and that we have made a 
mistake, and he is sorry for me — that is all." 

So she lay there with clinched fingers and dry eyes, say- 
ing to herself, as young people are so apt to do when the 
i world goes ill with them, that there was nothing to look 
forward to now but death. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A GENEROUS OFFER. 

That the fascinations of Dublin society are very great is 
what no Sassenach, however bigoted, will venture to deny; 
yet, if a man's chief interests happen to be centered in 
London and its vicinity, also if he be fully persuaded in his 
own mind that only one small section of society is really 
worthy of his attention, he can not suffer transplantation 

V / - 

/ 


A BACHELOR'S BLUHDER. 


283 


without a wrench, and the officers of her majesty's Foot 
Guards are, perhaps, a little too much given to indulge in 
plaints and murmurings when they are dispatched across 
St. George's Channel. This makes it the more gratifying 
to be able to state that the battalion to which Captain Cun- 
ningham belonged afforded one conspicuous exception to 
the above rule, in the person of Captain Cunningham him- 
self. 

Bertie had, indeed, reasons for congratulating himself 
upon his change of quarters, of which his anxiety to be re- 
moved from the neighborhood of Farndon was only one — 
though doubtless the chief. He had been profoundly 
mortified — and almost as much puzzled as mortified — by 
the indignant contempt with which Hope had received his 
avowal of love. Nothing of that kind had ever happened 
to him before; no one had ever addressed such language to 
him (though he had given more than one person an excel- 
lent excuse for doing so), and he could not quite understand 
it. Of course he had done wrong. He had said what 
ought not to have been said; he had broken his resolution, 
and, in a severely literal sense, he had certainly insulted 
the woman whom he loved. But he could not help being- 
astonished that she should say or think so. When the days 
passed on, bringing him no acknowledgment of his apology, 
he felt that he was being punished with almost vindictive 
rigor, and although his love for Hope was not diminished 
by what he considered her needless cruelty, it was a great 
relief to him to be ordered to a city in which he would run 
no risk of chance encounters with her. He was glad, too, 
to be out of Carry's reach; and, again, he was glad to be 
out of the reach of his friend Mrs. Pierpoint; finally, he 
was very glad to be out of the reach of duns. 

This security, it is true, was rather apparent than real; 
for Dublin, after all, is not so very far away, and the postal 
service which connects it with the metropolis is admirably 
organized. If Bertie had lost sight of the above circum- 
stance, he was speedily reminded of it. In fact, he had 
not been a week in Ireland when he received by one and 
the same delivery a batch of most disquieting letters. He 
was a man who habitually received a great many letters, of 
which a fair proportion were rather pleasant than other- 
wise, and it was his sensible rule always to read the dis- 
agreeable ones first. When, therefore, he recognized his 


284 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


father's handwriting upon one of the envelopes, he unhesi- 
tatingly accorded to it the place of honor, and its contents 
fully justified his discrimination. 

Sir Robert Cunningham was afflicted with a large family, 
a large estate, a moderate rent-roll, and a short temper. 
His younger sons had been no sort of comfort to him, and 
when he could get hold of them he took good care to make 
things excessively uncomfortable for them in return. 
Therefore they usually skipped nimbly out of his way, and, 
as he detested letter- writing, he only communicated with 
them when under the influence of great exasperation. Such 
an influence had evidently been strong upon him when he 
sat down to indite the epistle which our friend Bertie was 
now perusing. The old gentleman's style was terse and 
vigorous. He wasted no space in prefatory remarks, but 
came straight to the point : 

“ Dear Bertie (he wrote), — What the devil do your con- 
founded tailors and saddlers mean by sending in their bills 
to me? Even you can hardly be such an ass as to think 
that I shall pay them. I am not going to be bothered in 
this way, and if anything of the kind occurs again I shall 
cut £100 a year oft your allowance to teach you better man- 
ners. Since I am writing to you, I may as well mention 
that I am not half pleased with what I have been hearing 
about you lately. I understand that you are still playing 
fast and loose with a lady whom report says that you might 
have married, and ought to have married, any time during 
the last year, or more. If you choose to throw away an 
ample income, that is your affair; you are free to please 
yourself. But you are not free to behave in a manner un- 
becoming a gentleman, and rumors have reached my ears of 
an entanglement connected with this affair Which strikes 
me as highly discreditable. You had better take this as a , 
warning and mind what you are about; for as sure as I am 
alive, I will stop your allowance altogether if you disgrace 
yourself; and from what I know of you, you will hardly 
enjoy supporting yourself by manual labor." 

A truly sickening missive! Bertie tossed it aside with a* 
grimace, and proceeded to a further examination of his cor-. 
respondence. The next letter on the list was from Mr. 
Abraham Levison, financial agent; and Mr. Abraham 
Levison said that this would never, never do! Such 
leniency as he had shown to Captain Cunningham was. 


a bachelor's blunder. 


285 


without a parallel in the whole history of his benevolent 
career. Probably there was no man in London or else- 
where who would have lent money upon terms so absurdly 
easy; certainly there was no other who would have dis- 
played such boundless patience. But to everything there 
must be an end. Business was business; and unless Cap- 
tain Cunningham would consent to be a little more business- 
like, etc., etc. Then came a politely worded but decisive 
request from a well-known firm of West-end hosiers. Cap- 
tain Cunningham's account had now been running on for 
upward of five years, and they were compelled reluctantly 
to demand immediate payment. A Windsor tradesman 
was less urbane: “I can't stand it no longer, nor yet I 
won't stand it. You must settle, captain, and look sharp 
about it too, or I'll have the law of you, and that's flat." 

After running his eye over several other intimations 
similar in character and more or less peremptory in tone, 
Bertie felt himself in a fit frame of mind to read a some- 
what bulky letter which he had already recognized as com- 
ing from Miss Herbert. ‘ ‘ I wonder what she has got to 
say! Possibly she, too, may have decided to 4 have the law 
of me ' if I am not more business-like," he murmured, with 
a dreary little laugh. 

However, Carry's did not prove to be a threatening let- 
ter. It was written, as her letters always were, in a style 
expressive rather of good-fellowship than of tender senti- 
ments, and it conveyed the news— somewhat startling to its 
recipient — of Dick’s sudden disappearance from the scene. 
“ I am really quite ashamed of him," his sister declared, 
<c and I can't help being very sorry for poor Hope, though 
she is rather a goose, in my opinion. Ever since he left, 
she has been going about with a face as long as your arm, 
and making the most piteous and futile efforts to look as 
if nothing was the matter. I have done my little best to 
console her, but have only got snubbed for my pains. How- 
ever, I won't run her down, for I am aware that you have 
looked upon her as an angel since you broke your leg, and 
she read good books to you. By the bye, did she read good 
books to you? But I am sure she did; and you are just the 
man to delight in that kind of thing when stretched upon 
a bed of sickness. For my own part, I only wish she were 
an angel — at least, I wish she had wings. In that case she 
would doubtless take flight for Wyoming, and I might ask 


m 


A bachelor's blunder. 


a few cheery people to stay. As things are at present, the 
house is about as gay as my own house in Yorkshire used 
to be when it wasn't my own house, and when poor old 
Aunt Anne was laboriously keeping herself alive with tea- 
kettles. '' 

At this point Bertie laid down the sheet and became lost 
in meditation. Why was Hope's face so long, and why was 
she inconsolable? Assuredly not because her husband had 
gone away. He had seen too much of their daily relations 
to believe that either of them had more than a sober sort of 
liking for the other. And then, again, what did Herbert 
mean by rushing off to the other side of the world at a mo- 
ment's notice? But, not being good at solving problems, 
and being really convinced that Hope's character was an 
angelic one, he soon ceased to p -plex himself, murmuring 
with a sigh : “ Well, it can't mi - much odds to me, any- 
how; 1 have done for n^self completely and finally, and I 
don't suppose she will ever forgive me. Even if she loved 
me as ,1 love her, she would die before she would admit 
it. " 

Then he returned to Carry's letter, which he had left at 
the end of a page; and the first words that met his eyes, on 
turning over the next one, caused him to give a low whistle. 
“ As I am doing no good here," she continued, “ and as I 
am bored beyond all power of words to describe, I have de- 
cided on trying the effect of a little change. There is noth- 
ing in the world that I abhor quite so much as yachting; 
yet I am going to yacht. The Fortescues have invited me 
to go on a cruise to the west coast of Scotland with them, 
add I am to join them at Kingstown in a day or two. I 
had not the courage to go all the way from Southampton in 
the yacht, as they wanted me to do. You must come on 
board and see us, and tell us how you are getting on in 
Paddyland. The name of the yacht is the £ Flying Scud ' 
— painfully suggestive; but I presume that she will at least 
refrain from flying and scudding while she is in Kingstown 
Harbor. " 

Bertie felt that the fates were closing in upon him. 
Duty and indebtedness; an angry and determined father; 
duns not less angry and determined; a lady whose deter- 
mination yielded in nothing to theirs, although as yet she 
did not appear to be angry — these, surely, formed an en- 
circling host powerful enough to make any harassed young 


a bachelor's blunder. 


287 


man yield at discretion and say: 44 Have it your own way, 
then!" Bertie was very much disposed to adopt that in- 
glorious course. After all; it was nothing but what he had, 
known and declared to be inevitable for a long time pasfe 
Yet, when he thought of Hope, and pictured to himself ike' 
look of disdain which would come over her face on hearing 
that he had engaged himself to her sister-in-law, he e^s - 
claimed aloud, “Eo: hang it! I can't. I'd rather chut 
up everything and emigrate to New Zealand or some such 
place. Other fellows have done it, and why shouldn't I? 
Though, as the governor so amiably remarks, manual labor 
is not exactly the kind of thing that I am likely to enjoy." 

He smiled slightly, looking down at his hands. They 
were well-shaped, strong little hands, and could do all that 
their owner desired of them with a gun or a cricket-bat or 
a pair of sculls; but whether they could be employed with 
success upon plows and spades was another question. In 
his heart of hearts Bertie probably knew very well that he 
would never put them to any such use; but for the next 
few days — until the 44 Flying Scud " came into harbor, in 
fact — he amused himself with speculating upon the pros- 
pects of a colonial career, and even went so far as to buy 
two or three books relating to New Zealand and glance 
through their pages. Then, one morning, a note reached 
him from Mrs. Fortescue, a lady with whom he was well 
acquainted, asking him to lunch on board, and casually 
mentioning that his 4 4 friend Miss Herbert " had arrived. 
An excuse might have been invented without difficulty; 
but it was less troublesome to accept; and when Bertie had. 
more than one course open to him, he invariably and upon 
principle chose the least troublesome. 

The 44 Flying Scud" was a large schooner of nearly 
three hundred tons, and when Captain Cunningham stepped 
on to her deck he found himself surrounded by quite, a con- 
siderable group of friends, of whom Carry, in a neat yacht- 
ing costume, was one. They were very glad to see him, 
for he was universally liked, and he, too, was glad to see 
them and hear what they had to tell him about the world, 
from which he considered himself to be cut off; so that in 
a very short time the memory of his various troubles faded 
away from his mind. It was only when his eyes met Car- 
ry's, as they did from time to time, that a vague feeling of 
apprehension came over him. 


988 


A bachelor's blunder. 


After luncheon the company dispersed with some sud- 
denness. The owner of the yacht went ashore, taking the 
greater part of his guests with him; others went out fish- 
ing; and thus it came to pass that Bertie, who was reclin- 
ing in a wicker-chair beneath the awning and enjoying a 
eig irette, looked round and discovered that his only com- 
panions were Mrs. Fortescue and Miss Herbert. 

‘‘ How, Captain Cunningham," said the former, “you 
can't be allowed to be lazy any longer. Do you under- 
stand sailing a boat?" 

“ Of course I do," answered Bertie. 

“ Then you shall take us out in the cutter. . There is 
just enough breeze to till the sail, and the water is smooth 
enough even for Carry. " 

Bertie said that would be very jolly; but he was not quite 
so sure about the jollity of it when the two ladies, who had 
gone below to make some change in their dress, reappeared, 
and when Mrs. Fortescue announced that, after all, she 
had decided to remain on board, having rather a headache 
and being afraid of the sun. “I dare say you can be 
trusted not to drown Carry or yourself," she said. 

The truth was that Mrs. Fortescue, like a good many 
other well-meaning persons, wished to do something toward 
bringing about the engagement which had been hanging 
fire for so long. 

Carry Herbert was a proud woman by nature, and it 
was not without a sense of humiliation that she seated her- 
self in the centerboard cutter which had been brought 
alongside, while Bertie took the tiller. Not for the first 
time, she asked herself whether any subsequent happiness 
could quite repay her for this persistent hunting down of 
an unwilling victim. Had she not felt sure that the victim 
must eventually fall a prey to some well-dowered lady, she 
would have been almost inclined to abandon the pursuit; 
but that gave her a sort of justification. “ He will never 
care much for anybody," she sometimes thought (for she 
was not in the least blind to his defects); “ and I believe 
he is fond of me after a fashion." But just now a fit of 
compunction and discouragement was upon her, so that she 
leaned over the gunwale, resting her chin upon her hand and 
half turning her back toward her companion, who, for his 
part, could find nothing particular to say. 

A very slight breeze blew from the land and tempered 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


289 


the heat of the sun. The boat glided gently seaward before 
it, leaving a long track upon the smooth water, and for 
some time neither of its occupants uttered a word. They 
were sufficiently intimate to remain silent, if it so pleased 
them; sufficiently intimate also to understand one another 
without explicit speech; and so when Carry at length 
turned round and said “ Well?” there was no need for 
her to add anything to that curt interrogation. 

“ It isn't well at all," answered Bertie; “ it's about as 
far from well as it can be. ' ' 

“ What is wrong now?'' 

“ Oh, the old thing — bills. " 

“ Which kind of bills?" 

<e Both kinds. The finish isn't far off now. I. give my- 
self six months more — unless Dutch Oven wins the Leger, 
in which case it is just wildly possible that I might hold 
out for another year.'' 

“ And then?” 

“ And then I shall go off to New Zealand, if the governor 
will consent to pay my passage. Or perhaps I'll drive a 
hansom cab — I don't know. Will you give me an occa- 
sional half-crown fare during the season?'' 

Carry made no reply. She had shifted her position, and 
was gazing afc the beautiful Bay of Dublin astern, and the 
shipping in the harbor, and the great mail-steamer from 
Holyhead, which had j ust come in. Her profile was turned 
toward Bertie — a very handsome, high-bred profile. Just 
now it wore a somewhat softer and sadder expression than 
usual, and, as he looked at it, he felt a little sorry and a 
little ashamed. Poor Carry! he certainly had not treated 
her well. There had been a time when the idea of marry- 
ing her had been by no means repugnant to him, and even 
now — but then the vision of another face seemed to rise 
between him and her, and he said to himself, No, by Jove! 
he couldn't do it. How extraordinary it was that she 
should never have suspected the truth! It was partly curi- 
osity, partly perversity that moved him to say: “ Tell me 
about Mrs. Herbert. Is she really unhappy at being parted 
from that long-legged, unromantic brother of yours?" 

“ Oh, yes!" answered Carry, absently. “ Why not?" 

“ Only because she never seemed to me to be much in- 
terested in him. When I was at Farndon they were always 
apart all day long. " 

10 


290 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


11 1 suppose that was because she saw that he didn’t wont 
her. Most women can conceal their feelings, and all wom- 
en ought to be able to do so.” 

The last words were spoken with an accent of bitterness 
which Bertie understood. He relapsed into silence once 
more, not being yet prepared to say what he knew that he 
was almost bound to say. Would it be possible for him, he 
wondered, to escape from that boat without having finally 
committed himself? If he had cared to fathom his feelings 
he would perhaps have discovered that what he really 
wanted was to be so placed as that this should not be pos- 
sible. He would be glad afterward to be able to make ex- 
cuses for himself-— to say: “ Well, I couldn’t help it; no 
fellow could have got out of such a situation without pro- 
posing. ” 

Thus he waited upon events, drifting, as the boat drifted 
when the breeze died away and the sail flapped against the 
mast. Carry seemed to be not less devoid of definite pur- 
pose than he. She made a remark from time to time, to 
which he responded, but for the most part they held their 
peace. It has already been said that they knew one another 
well enough to exchange thoughts with a minimum of 
speech. The two hands whom they had brought with 
them from the yacht were half asleep in the bows, and 
were no retraint upon such conversation as passed between 
them. Nor, indeed, did the presence of these drowsy 
sailors prevent Carry from saying something at last which 
she certainly would not have liked them or any one else to 
overhear. They had now been a long time in the boat, 
and were beating back toward the harbor against a westerly 
wind which had freshened somewhat. Without any intro- 
ductory observations. Carry reverted to the subject upon 
which she had been meditating the whole afternoon. 

“ You can’t go on like this,” she said. “ You can’t al- 
ways spot the winners of races — ” 

“ One in twenty is about my average,” interjected Bertie. 

“ And there is not the remotest chance that Dutch Oven 
will win the Leger. Besides^ if she did, that would mean 
no more than staving off ruin for another twelvemonth. 
The only plan is to free yourself from debt and make a 
fresh start. I want you to let me provide you with the 
means of doing this. Don’t interrupt, please; I am quite 
aware that one isn’t allowed to do that sort of thing for 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


291 


one’s friends; but mine is a rather exceptional case. The 
simple truth is that I have a great deal more money than I 
can possibly spend, and yon conldn’t do me a greater kind- 
ness than by letting me help you. I could give you £5000, 
or even double that, to-morrow, and nobody would be any 
the wiser. That’s the point of it, you see; nobody would 
ever know. ” 

She spoke in a low, eager voice, and the young man was 
really touched by her disinterestedness, which he could not 
question. Still, there was only one answer to be made. 

“ You are very kind and very generous,” he said, “ and 
I am as grateful to you as if it were possible for me to ac- 
cept your offer. But you must see that it is utterly impos- 
sible. No man can take money from a woman, unless — 
except — ” 

e< The matter is one between ourselves,” she interrupted, 
quickly. “ I see no necessity for conditions. Did you 
think that I wanted to impose any upon you?” 

“ I am sure you didn’t,” answered Bertie. And then, 
after a pause: “ But the conditions exist, all the same.” 

If he had really wished to find himself in a position from 
which retreat without an offer of marriage would be im- 
practicable, he should have been satisfied now; and if poor 
Carry had ever doubted that he would like her money well 
enough, but was not equally ambitious to become possessed 
of her person, his present hesitation must have removed 
all doubt from her mind. She was mortified, but her 
magnanimity did not desert her. 

“ We won’t say any more about it now,” she resumed 
presently. ‘ £ Think it over, and let me know to-morrow 
or next day what you decide. I only ask you to believe 
that it will be a true act of friendship on your part to let 
me be of use to you, and that, if you do, I shall never 
dream of thinking that I have laid you under an obligation 
of any sort or kind. ” 

Bertie murmured some confused words of thanks. He 
was thoroughly ashamed of himself for taking advantage 
of this delay, but he did take advantage of it, notwith- 
standing. Everybody knows the consequences of craning 
at a fence or pausing upon the point of taking a header.' 
If the thing is not done at once it will most probably never 
be done at all; and Bertie had shivered upon the brink so 
long that he was ready to catch at any excujse for shivering 


292 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


a little longer. He would, of course, have to make his 
proposal in due form on the morrow, and his only reason 
for not making it immediately was that to-morrow was to- 
morrow. A poor reason enough, but it served its purpose. 

Bertie did not linger on hoard the yacht after he had re- 
stored Miss Herbert, safe and sound, to Mrs. Fortescue’s 
care, and had been discreetly rallied by that lady upon the 
length of time that he had been absent. He ascertained 
that the 4 ‘ Flying Scud 9 ’ would not sail for a couple of 
days, and, having promised to call again, took his leave. 

“ So it’s all settled,” he mused, when he had been put 
on shore and was waiting at the station for a train to take 
him to Westland Bow. 44 At least, it will be before I am 
twenty-four hours older, and I only wish the twenty-four 
hours were past! I ought to have done it this afternoon, 
but I couldn’t, somehow. It was awfully good of her to 
offer me that money, and she meant what she said, too. 
Upon my word, she’s a long way too good for me, and if I 
could only forget Hope — but the worst of it is that I shall 
never do that, and I shall never dare to look her in the 
face again either. Suppose anything should happen to 
Herbert out in America — no, dash it all! I won’t think 
about such things; I’ll think about Carry. I wonder 
whether I shall have to tell her that I love her, and I won- 
der whether she will believe me, if I do. Poor Carry! 
Poor me, too, if you come to that! Well, it’s an ill wind 
that blows nobody any good, and I suppose the governor 
will dance a fandango when he hears the news. So will 
old Levison; and so will the butcher and the baker and the 
candlestick-maker. What a consolation it will be to make 
so many deserving people happy!” 

His soliloquy was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, 
and, wheeling round, he became aware of a young brother- 
officer whose ordinarily impassive countenance had an ex- 
pression of modified joy and excitement. 

“Well,” said Bertie, rather crossly, “ what’s up with 
you f You look as if you had discovered something to be 
cheerful about in this beastly hole. ” 

“I’m going to leave this beastly hole,” answered the 
other. “ Haven’t you heard? We’re ordered off to Egypt 
to join Wolseley’s expedition.” 

Bertie drew a long breath. 

“ There’s a fate about this,” he muttered, “ Providence 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


293 


doesn’t- mean the event to come off, that’s certain. First I 
break my leg; then what the governor' calls an ‘ entangle- 
ment ’ arises; and now I am sent away to chastise Arabi the 
Blest— may his shadow never be less! One more chance 
for me— lots more chances! Who can tell what may not 
happen before I come back? Who knows whether I shall 
come back at all?” 

“ I can’t hear a word yon say/’ interrupted his com- 
panion. 

“ I wasn’t talking to you, my dear fellow,” answered 
Bertie; “but you’re a good sort of chap in your way, and 
you’ve brought me good news. I won’t fail to drink your 
health the moment I get within reach of decent liquor. ” 

And so, on the following day. Carry waited for Captain 
Cunningham in vain; but the evening post brought her the 
subjoined brief note — 

“ My dear Miss Herbert, — I dare say you won’t have 
been surprised at my not turning up this afternoon; I have 
such a heap of things to do. You will have heard that we 
are to sail for Egypt immediately. It will be awfully hot, 
I expect; but one mustn’t grumble at trifles. I hope you 
will have a pleasant cruise. You must write and tell me 
about it, and I’ll send you a graphic account of our first 
engagement in return. Very sorry I couldn’t see you to 
say good-bye; but we shall meet again before next year 
most likely, unless I get knocked over. 

“_Yours very sincerely, 

“ B. C. 

“ I can’t tell you how grateful I feel to you for what you 
said yesterday. I did think it over, as you told me; but of 
course I couldn’t say yes to such an offer. Nobody could. 
Thank you a thousand times for making it, though. ” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A QUIET TIME. 

The old hypothesis, that of every pair of lovers there is 
one who loves and one who submits to be loved, has often 
suggested an inquiry as to which of the two lots is the more 
desirable; but this would not for a moment have presented 
itself in the light of a problem to Hope, who soon got the 


294 


A bachelor's blunder. 


better of the access of despair which had come upon her in 
the first hour of hdr abandonment. She had no doubt at 
all that it was a happier fate to love an indifferent husband 
than to be an indifferent wife; perhaps, too — since her 
nature was so sanguine — she may sometimes have indulged 
in dreams of a good time coming, when Dick should be 
indifferent no longer. In any case, it was a joy to her to 
be able to think of him in the way that she had always un- 
consciously wished to think and had as unconsciously re- 
sisted; it was a joy to her to make a hero of him, to ab- 
solve him from all blame, to forgive him freely for having 
forsaken her and spoken of their marriage as a mistake. 
She had, it is true, a momentary difficulty when she re- 
membered his suspicions of her with regard to Bertie Cun- 
ningham, and his implied disbelief of her word upon the 
subject; but she swallowed that down with the rest. She 
could not grudge anything to those whom she loved, and if 
Dick had done her a much more grievous wrong she would 
have found pleasure in pardoning him. Therefore she was 
far from being altogether miserable, in spite of. the long 
face which Carry had accused her of wearing; only her 
spirits were depressed, and she allowed her mind to dwell 
more than was good for her upon the perils of - the ocean, 
and upon wild Indians and bears and frost-bites and rattle- 
snakes. 

When Carry, somewhat unexpectedly, took her depart- 
ure, Hope, glad to be left to her own devices, inaugurated 
the humdrum course of life which she purposed to lead un- 
til her husband's return. Solitude was much more agree- 
able to her than society, and she neither desired nor intend- 
ed to invite any one to stay with her. One guest, however, 
thought fit to invite himself. This was Mr. Lefroy, wha 
wrote to ask whether his niece would take him in for a night 
on his way from home to some place in the Eastern coun- 
ties, where he had to attend a Conservative gathering. 
Hope could only answer that he would . be most welcome, 
and was thankful that he was not going to bring his better 
half with him. Lady Jane had been greatly startled by 
the intelligence of Dick's flight for America. Hope had 
purposely abstained from letting her know of it until it 
was already an accomplished fact, and her ladyship's reply, 
though guardedly expressed, had borne the impress of con- 
sternation in every line. She evidently thought that there 


a bachelor's blunder. 295 

had been a quarrel, and it was quite clear that she had now 
dispatched Mr. Lefroy to inquire into and report upon the 
causes of the same. This was tiresome; but it was nothing 
more than Hope had anticipated, and she was prepared with 
answers to any questions that might be put to her. 

Mr. Lefroy, when a young man, had thought of entering 
the diplomatic service, and it is almost a pity that his am- 
ple means and love of rural pursuits caused him to give up 
the idea; for he possessed many of the qualities which go 
to make a successful diplomatist of the Britannic variety. 
He had plenty of common sense; he knew how to stick to 
a point and to make his interlocutor do the same; he was 
not easily humbugged, and his good-humored heartiness 
was calculated to disarm suspicion. Personally, he was a 
good deal more alarmed about his niece's domestic affairs 
than Lady J ane was, and considered that matters had taken 
a very serious turn indeed. His impression of Hope was 
what he had proclaimed it to be on her wedding-day; he 
thought that she required extremely careful driving, and 
he had never felt sure that Dick Herbert was the man to 
keep her head straight. He believed her capable of great 
acts of folly — so much so, indeed, that to hear of her elope- 
ment with Bertie Cunningham would not have surprised 
him. 

Therefore it was with an anxious heart, though with a 
smiling and open countenance, that he accosted her on his 
arrival at Farndon, and took note of a certain change in 
her appearance which was not satisfactory to him. “ Pale 
cheeks, features a little drawn and sharp — that's worry, '' 
he thought to himself. te But what the deuce does that 
queer sort of subdued glowinher eyes mean? I'm afraid I 
know only too well what it means. I've seen it in other 
people's eyes before now." 

It was really very creditable to him that he should have 
detected this phenomenon, which would have escaped the 
notice of nine observers out of ten; and that it could be due 
to Hope's tardy discovery that she was in love with her hus- 
band was what no diplomatist, however acute, could be ex- 
pected to surmise. 

Mr. Lefroy was very diplomatic. He neither rushed into 
his subject nor ostentatiously avoided it, but remarked: 
“ So t v ' Dick is off after the big game again, eh? 

vP® m from it any more than you can keep a 


296 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


terrier from poaching. Ah, well! I wish I was young 
enough to take a turn at the wapiti myself. ** After which 
he glided airily away to other topics of conversation. He 
fully intended to speak plainly, for he deemed that this 
was a case in which plain speaking would be of service; but 
he proposed to put off what he had to say until the last 
thing at night, knowing that emphatic words are apt to lose 
much of their force unless they are followed up by an exit. 
But when he was sitting with Hope in the drawing-room 
after dinner, and when the evening paper, which had just 
arrived, was handed to him, his eye lighted upon a para- 
graph which not only caused him to modify his programme, 
but drew from him a fervent ejaculation of “ The Lord be 
praised !** 

Hope looKed up from her work interrogatively. “ Why?* * 
she asked. 

Mr. Lefroy did not reply, “ Because the sixth battalion 
of the Scots Guards are under orders for Egypt/* but said, 
somewhat hastily: “ I am rejoicing over the discomfiture 
of this pious Ministry, which is about to lay itself open to 
further charges of blood -guiltiness. They will be driven 
into annexation, youTl see; and that is satisfactory, because 
Egypt must belong to England eventually; but they will 
also have to spend a good many millions of the public 
money, and then up will go the income-tax and out will go 
the Government, which will be more satisfactory still. We 
may hope to get rid of them now before they bring in their 
abominable County Franchise Bill. ** 

“ But isn*t the County Franchise Bill one of the things 
which are bound to come eventually?** asked Hope. 

“ Very likely; and we are all bound to die eventually; 
but I take it that none of us want to hasten that event. I 
should like to destroy Radicalism altogether, but that is 
impossible; so I am thankful for any opportunity that oc- 
curs of scotching it. Believe me, the golden rule in poli- 
tics and in life is to make the best of things.** 

“You say that as if you intended the rule to apply 
specially to me,** observed Hope. 

“ I have not the slightest objection to admitting that 
such was my intention. I think you are discontented with 
your lot, and I think you might be worse off- ^reat deal 
worse off.** 

Hope was not sure that she quite ur 


a bachelor's blunder. 


297 


but she knew that he would not have come to Farndon to 
protest against mere discontent on her part, so she led him 
on by saying: “ I should have thought that it was only 
right and proper for a wife' to be discontented when her 
husband leaves her for a year. " 

“ Oh, well, I agree with you there; I don't think Her- 
bert ought to have done it. But candidly now, Hope — are 
you any more contented when he is at home?" 

Hope laid down her work and looked her uncle in the 
face calmly: “What is it that you are afraid of my do- 
ing?" she asked. 

Mr. Lefroy hesitated and then laughed a little. “ Per- 
haps I had better tell you," he said. “Iam not afraid of 
your doing anything wrong 91 (this was not quite strictly 
true, but diplomatists must be courteous and are absolved 
by common consent from ’absolute veracity), “ only I am 
sometimes afraid — and so is your aunt — that you may be 
inclined to look in the wrong direction for consolation. I 
quite allow that it is hard lines upon a woman that, because 
she is young and good-looking, she should be debarred from 
friendships with men who — who — in short, who resemble 
her in those particulars; but we live in a censorious world, 
and, as 1 say, we must make the best of it. How, young 
Cunningham — " 

“ Captain Cunningham is not a friend of mine," inter- 
rupted Hope. 

“ Eh?" 

“ He is not a friend of mine. I liked him at first; but 
I have not found him improve upon acquaintance, and you 
may tell Aunt Jane that he certainly will not be invited to 
stay here during Dick's absence. I suppose that was what 
you were afraid of, was it not?" 

Perhaps it had been; but as Bertie would probably be 
employed for some time to come in supporting the dignity 
and independence of the Khedive, that cause for alarm no 
longer existed. Therefore Mr. Lefroy replied : 

“ Hot exactly. Your aunt, I think, would rather wish 
to caution you against forming intimacies with any young 
men just at present." 

“ Then tell her that she shall be obeyed. And you may 
add, if you like, that I am not nearly so discontented with 
my lot as you and she imagine. How are you satisfied?" 

Mr. Lefroy stroked Ins chin meditatively. What he was 


298 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


thinking was: “ If it isn’t Cunningham, who the deuce is 
it? It must be somebody . 99 But as he could not say this, 
he resumed presently: “ I really am quite ashamed of be- 
ing so inquisitorial, but would you mind telling me one 
thing? What did Herbert go away for?” 

“ To shoot wapiti, apparently.” 

“ Oh, yes, apparently; only nobody is likely to believe 
it. Now, Hope, don’t you know that he would come back 
at once, if you wrote and asked him?” 

“ I most certainly do not know anything of the kind — or 
I would write.” 

“ You might try the experiment, anyhow.” 

“ No,” answered Hope, with a slight smile, “ I won’t do 
that; but I will promise to form no new friendships while 
he is away, if that will do as well. The moment that you 
think I am becoming too intimate with anybody you will 
only have to tell me so, and that person shall be dropped. 
Can I say more?” 

Mr. Lefroy was fain to admit that she could not. He 
professed himself satisfied, and left the next morning, after 
taking an affectionate farewell of his niece and' extorting 
frpm her a somewhat reluctant promise to pay a long visit 
to Helston in a few weeks’ time. Nevertheless, he was not 
satisfied, and as he drove down to the station, he muttered 
to himself: 

“ All very fine; but what about that queer light in her 
eyes? If she isn’t in love with somebody I’ll eat my hat, 
that’s all!” 

Fortunately, Hope was unconscious of there being any- 
thing remarkable in the appearance of her eyes at this 
time; for, had she guessed the alarming nature of their 
1 Lbtless have bought herself a pair 



It was, indeed, rather bad luck 


for her that they should already have betrayed her secret to 
two persons, and that each of these persons should have 
misinterpreted it. Mr. Lefroy, as we have seen, was puz- 
zled, being at a loss to conjecture who was responsible for 
the change that had come over his niece; but no such un- 
certainty existed in the mind of Jacob Stiles. Jacob, it is 
needless to say, had reflected over that little scene in the 
garden, when Hope had torn up Captain Cunningham’s 
letter, and had drawn his own conclusions, which were at 
least plausible. It was evident, Jacob thought, that Cun- 


a bachelor's blunder. 


299 


ningham liad gone too far — had either avowed his love or 
had hinted at it; and had thereby offended Hope; but it 
was just as evident that she had subsequently read his let- 
ter. Perhaps she had even answered it. The danger of 
being so clever at induction and deduction as Jacob was is 
the self-confidence apt to be engendered by that facility, 
and the proneness which is often noticeable in its possessors 
to the building up of elaborate theories upon what, after 
all, is only an assumption. The writings of certain wise 
men and philosophers seem to be a little marred by this de- 
fect, which, in their case, is known as the scientific habit of 
mind. Jacob, having formed his theory, had no difficulty 
in making Hope's behavior fit in with and support it. Her 
grief at parting with her husband was easily explained; for 
of course she wished to do her duty to him, and he was her 
natural protector, and she dreaded the temptations which 
could not but derive additional strength from his absence. 
Nor was there much doubt as to what the sort of quiet, 
happy melancholy which had since taken possession of her 
meant. To love and to know herself loved in return must 
give her happiness of a certain kind, and to be delivered 
from the presence of a man whom she did not love must 
also afford her a certain kind of relief. 

These conclusions were not the less readily accepted by 
Jacob because they were distasteful to him personally. H^ 
did not consider Cunningham in any way worthy of Hope, 
he had no affection for that gay youth, and he certainly 
had once had a strong affection for Dick. The latter feel- 
ing was, however, dead and gone — killed (so he told him- 
self) by the utter selfishness of the man. For a long time 
he had been doubtful whether he loved or hated his bene- 
factor; but he thought that he knew now. Surely he had 
a right to hate him! Was not hatred the natural result of 
the careless contempt with which Dick had treated him ever 
since that unhappy episode of the forged check? — a con- 
tempt which all these years of steady good conduct had not 
availed to lessen one whit. And again, does not a selfish 
man deserve to be hated? Jacob had succeeded in persuad- 
ing himself that selfishness was the key-note to Dick's 
character. The good nature, the open -handedness that 
cost him so little — what were they but the selfishness which 
likes to be surrounded by smiling faces? That habit of 
saying exactly what he thought to and of his neighbors. 


300 


a bachelor's blunder. 


which had earned him a name for honesty — what was it but 
the selfishness which can not be troubled, to consider the 
feelings of others? And his behavior to his wife! His open 
neglect of her; his desertion of her for the sake of gratify- 
ing a mere whim; his utter indifference as to what the 
world would say of such a proceeding! When Jacob thought 
of these things his face grew dark and he clinched his fists. 
He had a way of muttering to himself when alone, and oc- 
casionally it happened to him to mutter things which, if 
they had been heard and repeated, might have justified a 
magistrate in binding him over to keep the" peace. 

But, notwithstanding all this mental disturbance, Jacob 
spent many happy hours at this time — so many that, look- 
ing back upon it afterward, he felt sure that he had never 
been as happy before and had little chance of ever being as 
happy again. Every day Hope came up to his studio to 
watch him at work and receive the instructions which he 
was only too delighted to bestow upon her; and although 
the summer was not a particularly fine one (for there had 
been a fine summer only four years back, and consequently 
another could not be expected for a long time to come), 
there were few afternoons so rainy as to prevent this couple 
from sallying forth together on foot or on horseback to 
study Nature under all her infinitely varied aspects. 
v “Jacob," Hope would say (she had at last given up 
calling him Mr. Stiles), “ I shall want you to take me up 
to Ascot Heath this afternoon, so if you have work to do, 
you must neglect it." And he prepared with joy to neg- 
lect his work accordingly. 

She treated him as a friend, but nevertheless issued her 
behests to him very much after the fashion of a gracious 
sovereign, having, indeed, discovered that he liked nothing 
so much as being ordered about by her. It was almost ex- 
clusively of art that they spoke during their walks and 
rides. Once or twice Hope had tried to make her com- 
panion talk about Dick, but the effect had always been to 
reduce him to a state of such obstinate taciturnity that she 
gave it up. Besides, his chief value as a conversationalist 
lay in his thorough knowledge of his craft and his readiness 
to impart what he knew. He had the true artist's eye for 
detail; no effect of light and shade, no peculiarity of out- 
line, escaped him. He showed her a thousand things which 
she would never have seen but for him; also he taught her 


a bachelor's blunder. 301 

a smattering of anatomy, making her watch the move- 
ments of his horse, as he rode beside her, and pointing out 
to her the power and grace of that most beautiful of ani- 
mals. What surprised her was that, with all his apprecia- 
tion of form and color and all his mastery of the technical- 
ities of his art, he had so little enthusiasm for it and so little 
ambition for himself. 

44 What should I do with ambition?” he said one day, in 
answer to a reproach of hers on this score. 44 It would be 
a very awkward incumbrance to me, and I am much better 
without it. A barn-door fowl would look extremely silly if 
he tried to fly like an eagle; and if a dog who is chained to 
his kennel all day doesn't want to run loose, he is so far a 
lucky dog." 

44 But I don't see the parallel," objected Hope. 

However, he did not explain it. “I am glad that I can 
paint," he resumed presently. 44 1 have gained by painting 
all that I ever expected or wished to gain — a sort of inde- 
pendence, I mean. Of course it is only a sort of independ- 
ence; but it is better than none. As for fame, I don't know 
of any possible good that that could do me." 

44 Yet it is something, surely, to be distinguished above 
the common herd. " 

44 To other men it might be; to me there is no satisfac- 
tion in being distinguished — if I am distinguished. For 
years my one ambition was to be able to pay a certain debt. 
I suppose I may say that I have done that now, so far as the 
thing can be done; only, unluckily, it can't be done in 
full. " His face grew somber, and then lightened a little 
as he looked up at Hope. 44 1 wish I could pay my debt to 
you , Mrs. Herbert," said Hope. 

44 But you don't owe me anything," said Hope. 

44 Ah, don't say that! No one has ever been one-hun- 
dredth part as good and kind to me as you have been, and 
there is nothing that I wished for so much as to be able to 
make some return to you, however small." 

44 It is by no means a small thing that you are giving up 
so much of your valuable time to teaching a slow pupil," 
said Hope. 

But Jacob smiled and shook his head. That was not the 
sort of return that he wanted to make. He would have 
liked to sacrifice himself in some way for her — to lay the 
life which he set so little store by at her feet. It was true 


302 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


that he had made one small sacrifice for her sake by remain- 
ing at Farndon that summer, for he had intended to go 
abroad and visit the great picture-galleries which were 
known to him only by hearsay; but, upon reflection, he 
perceived that his plan had been abandoned rather for his 
own satisfaction than for hers. 

“ It seems to me, Jacob,” said Hope after a time, “ that 
you ought to be very happy, and that you are not happy at 
all. Why is that?” 

“ Did you not ask me the same question once before? 
And I told you that I would answer you some day. Per- 
haps, if you care to listen to a vulgar, unpleasant story, I 
will answer you — some day. But, speaking generally, I 
don’t think it is possible to be happy when one is depend- 
ent. The one great secret of happiness is to owe no man 
anything.” 

Hope mused awhile over this authoritative dictum. Hap- 
piness and the means of attaining it are not so easily de- 
fined; and it did not appear to her that she had as yet got to 
the root of the matter, though she had had the advantage 
of hearing the opinion of various persons upon it. “ Have 
an occupation to fall back upon,” said Tristram. “ Un- 
derstand your position clearly,” said Dick. “ Get hold of 
money, somehow or other,” said Bertie Cunningham. 
“ Make the best of things, and avoid friction,” said- Mr. 
Lefroy. And Jacob, it seemed, desired only the negative 
blessing of having nothing to be grateful for. They all 
had their theories; so that there was no reason why she 
should not set up hers, which was that the only thing worth 
living for is love. And, although this may have a some- 
what lackadaisical sound, it is not so absolutely certain that 
she was mistaken. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A TREATY OF PEACE. 

Dick Herbert was a very well-known man, and as for 
the Lefroys, their acquaintances were as the sands of the 
sea-shore in number. It was scarcely to be supposed, there- 
fore, that Hope’s temporary abandonment within so short 
a time of her marriage should escape remark or fail to be 
accounted for in various fashions more or less startling. 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


303 


As a matter of fact, she and her husband and the alleged 
quarrel that had taken place between them were a good deal 
discussed that autumn by all who knew them, as well as by 
many who did not, and the split in the Herbert household 
formed a welcome alternative subject of conversation to 
the Egyptian rebellion. As nobody really understood the 
causes of either event, much nonsense was talked about 
both, and it is to be feared that our heroine’s character met 
with little more justice or mercy than that of poor Aclimet 
Arabi. Many false things and many silly things were said 
about her, and Lady Jane was sorely afflicted thereby; but 
to Hope herself these did not give a moment of uneasiness, 
for the capital reason that she never heard of them. The 
neighbors who called upon her from time to time did not 
know her well enough to report gossip to her or to cross- 
examine her, though they were always very careful to ask 
what was the latest news of Mr. Herbert, and what was his 
real destination, and when he might be expected home 
again. 

Hope could not have done much toward gratifying their 
curiosity, even had she been so minded. In due course of 
time a telegram reached her, announcing Dick’s safe arrival 
at Hew York; ten days later she received a letter, written 
apparently in excellent spirits and filled with an account 
of the incidents of the voyage; shortly after which came a 
second letter, in which Dick informed her that he was upon 
the point of starting for the West, that the yacht would re- 
turn immediately, and that he had intrusted to the skipper 
a small parcel which he hoped would reach her safely. 
“ Only a sample of Hew York jewelry; some of their work 
here isn’t bad. I saw this thing in a shop-window, and I 
remembered your saying once that you liked cats’-eyes; so 
I thought I would buy it for you.” The missive was more 
like that of a brother to his sister than of a husband to his 
wife; but it satisfied Hope, who read it through a great 
many times, and who was glad that Dick had remembered 
her fancy for one stone more than another. 

Jacob lingered on; and what with painting, walking, 
and riding, the days slipped away quickly enough. From 
the household cares which afford occupation to most women 
Hope was relieved by the housekeeper, an imposing person 
with whom she neither dared nor desired to interfere; but 
in a large establishment there are always plenty of interests, 


304 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


and Hope had endeared herself to the people about the 
place. Gardeners, lodge-keepers, and so forth welcomed 
her approach, as did also their numerous progeny, for whom 
she was in the habit of purchasing a supply of toys and 
sugar-plums every time that she drove into Windsor. She 
liked to potter about with these somewhat dull-witted folks, 
to listen to the exhaustive descriptions that they were wont 
to give her of their ailments, and to make the older ones 
among them repeat over and over again certain anecdotes 
about “ Master Hick 99 and the “ owdacious 99 deeds of his 
boyhood. 

When Roberts, the captain of the yacht, wrote to report 
his arrival at Portsmouth and his intention of forwarding 
the parcel committed to his care by post, she sent him a long 
telegram, begging him to run no such risk, but to come to 
Farndon himself and deliver the packet into her own 
hands. The good-humored -looking, rosy-cheeked skipper, 
who may have had a sailor’s eye for female loveliness, 
stared hard at his new mistress, and expressed a hope that 
they would have her on board when they made their next 
cruise'. Seasickness he assured her was nothing when you 
were used to it; both Mr. Herbert and the other gentleman 
had been a bit queer the first day out, and had been all the 
better for it. Then Hope showed him the cat’s-eye pen- 
dant, with its glittering circle of diamonds, and he observed 
that it must have cost a power of money. “ The governor 
was terrible particular about it, to be sure!” he added. 
“ Says he, ‘ If the yacht goes to the bottom and you have 
to take to your boats, you must save that, whatever you 
leave behind. I won’t have Mrs. Herbert disappointed,’ he 
says.” 

It seems possible that Roberts may have been drawing a 
little upon nis imagination here; but it was worth while tell- 
ing a white lie to see Hope’s face break out into smiles and 
dimples. He and she became great friends; only he was 
unable to give her the information which she had secretly 
hoped for. Mr. Herbert, it appeared had said nothing 
about the date of his return; but the yacht was to be laid 
up, and Roberts had heard the other gentleman express a 
decided preference for mail steamers as a means of transit 
across the ocean. “And there’s no denying but they’ll 
get home all the sooner that way, do you see, ma’am. 
Which is what the governor’ll wish, I make no doubt.” 


a bachelor's blunder. 


305 


This was the sort of tone which all Hope's dependents 
thought fit to adopt. Whatever their private opinion may 
have been, they always spoke as if it must be a matter of 
course that their master was eager to return to his home 
and his wife, and when she assured them that she did not 
expect to see him again for nearly a yeear, they were ready 
with the incredulous shake of the head which her remark 
invited. 

“ Things isn't as they was in the old days, when he'd be 
away for eighteen months or more at a time," these opti- 
mists would say. “It was kind of lonesome for him then, 
with only Miss Carry to keep him company, and she stay- 
ing with her friends as often as not; but'tisa very different 
matter now." 

Perhaps it was rather absurd to be pleased and consoled 
by such speeches as these; but Hope managed to persuade 
herself that there was a grain of truth in them, and she 
missed them greatly when at length she had to pay her 
promised visit to Helston and encounter the jeremiads of 
Lady Jane, who took a desponding view of the situation 
which she was at no pains to conceal from her niece. 

“ It does seem to me that you have mismanaged matters, 
Hope," she said fretfully. “ You ought never to have let 
Dick resume these wandering ways. Now that he has 
broken loose once he is sure to do it again; and it is such a 
mistake for husbands and wives to begin that kind of 
thing!" 

“ Dick is not the only married man who goes on shoot- 
ing expeditions to America," observed Hope. 

“ Oh, my dear, of course there are people who can do 
these things and others who can't. I don't wish to go back 
upon the past; but I should have thought you would have 
seen for yourself that this was a particularly inopportune 
time for you and Dick to part. However, there is not 
much good in talking about it, now that the tiling is done 
and can't be undone. " 

This was indisputable; but Lady Jane continued to talk 
about it notwithstanding; and Lady Jane's guests showed 
less tact in their allusions to Hope's bereavement than her 
humbler friends at Farndon had done. The men were in- 
clined to treat it as a joke, and to chaff her after a mild, 
tentative fashion; and one very rude old gentleman went so 
far as to say, “ So your husband is off to the wilds again, I 


306 


A bachelor’s bluhder. 


hear, Mrs. Herbert. What is the attraction? Hoes he 
keep a detachment of squaws out there, do you think? I 
shouldn’t mind the squaws if I were you, since they are 
such a long way off; but I should draw the line at papooses. 
Don’t let him bring any untutored papooses back with 
him. ” 

But of course it was at the hands of the women that she 
suffered the most. Some of them expressed great surprise 
at the length of tether which she allowed to her husband, 
declaring that they would never have been so accommoda- 
ting; others treated her to a liberal measure of ironical pity; 
most of them had an air of looking askance at her and won- 
dering whether it was all right. She perceived that in 
some undefined manner she had lost caste. People who 
had been very civil and respectful to her during the season 
were disposed to be familiar, not to say impertinent, now; 
and there is often great difficulty in snubbing impertinent 
people without descending to their level. Hope could not 
help thinking sometimes that Dick might have foreseen 
this as one of the inevitable consequences of her unprotect- 
ed condition; also her spirits were a little damped by the 
certainty which everybody appeared to feel that her hus- 
band would never care to settle down to a domestic life. 
After all, these people probably knew him better than his 
retainers at Farndon could. Thus it came to pass that her 
pillow was not unfrequently wet with tears. She had post- 
poned her visit to her relations until the year was far ad- 
vanced; and now, with mistaken kindness, they insisted 
upon her remaining with them over Christmas. And a 
very cheerless Christmas she spent in the old home, where 
everything was so changed. Dick’s letters had lately be- 
come very irregular; in his last he had warned her that it 
might be a long time before he would have an opportunity 
of letting her hear from him again ; some amiable persons 
were so good as to entertain her with accounts of snow- 
storms in the Far West, and of hunting parties which had 
perished miserably in those wind-swept solitudes. Alto- 
gether it was a dismal time, and it seemed to her as if it 
would never come to an end. But it came to an end at 
last, as all earthly things do, both 'for the patient and the 
impatient; and early in January Hope was permitted to 
return to Farndon, where she found Carry, who had arrived 
from the North a few days before. 


A bachelor's blunder. 


307 


Carry had been paying a visit of inspection to her York- 
shire domain, and had had a bad attack of the blues there, 
she said. Mrs. Pierpoint had been staying with her, but 
had now gone on to Leicestershire, and when others had 
been invited to take her place they had all with one consent 
begun to make excuse. “ So I thought I would come here 
and cheer you up," Carry concluded, leaving it to be in- 
ferred that this charitable course had only been resorted to 
as a pis-aller. 

Hope thanked her, and endeavored to look grateful. 
But it was not very long before she discovered that the boon 
of her sister-in-law's society had not been conferred upon 
her wholly and solely from the motive assigned. 

“ Did you hear about poor Captain Cunningham?" Carry 
asked, in the course of the evening. 

“ I heard that he had been ordered to Egypt," answered 
Hope; “ I didn't hear of his having earned any honorable 
scars there." 

“ He never had the chance. The Guards were shame- 
fully treated, and he says he can't imagine why they were 
sent there, when any ordinary line regiment might have 
done the work that was given to them. All he gained by 
the campaign was an attack of fever; so that he has been 
obliged to go home to be nursed. I suppose," added Carry, 
after waiting in vain for any expression of sympathy from 
Hope, “ you wouldn't object to my asking him to come 
down here for a few days, would you? He does so hate 
being at home with that disagreeable old father of his, and 
I think a little change might do him good." 

“ I should object most decidedly," answered Hope, 
quickly. She was taken by surprise, or she would hardly 
have made so ungracious and peremptory a reply. 

“ What do you mean?" asked Carry, her eyes growing 
large and angry, and her voice hard. ‘‘Is it to Captain 
Cunningham individually that you object, or to my inviting 
any friend of mine to come and see me?" 

Hope saw what a stupid blunder she had made, and tried 
to retrieve it. “ Of course any friend of yours would be 
welcome here," she said; “ but I would rather you didn't 
ask Captain Cunningham just now. It is best not to have 
— bachelors staying in the house while we are alone. Dick 
told me before he went away that he did not wish it. " 

“ Told you that he didn't wish to have bachelors in the 


308 


A BACHELOR* S BLUNDER. 


house!** echoed Carry, incredulously. “ Do you seriously 
expect me to believe that Dick ever gave you such instruc- 
tions as that?** 

Now Dick*s instructions had certainly been less general;; 
but it was impossible to give them verbatim, so Hope con- 
tented herself with repeating, “ I would rather you did not 
ask Captain Cunningham just now.** 

ct Why not? I really should very much like to know why 
not! Do yon imagine that Captain Cunningham*s presence; 
will compromise you? That does seem to be rather a need- 
less alarm. I am sure that his admiration for you knows 
no bounds; but at the same time, I hardly think— if you 
will pardon my saying so — that he is enamored of you. 
And if you come to talk of bachelors and the danger of as- 
sociating with them, what do you make of your dear friend 
Jacob Stiles?** 

“ Jacob Stiles is different. Besides, he is not in the; 
house,** said Hope, rather feebly. 

“ No; but he was in the house for a long time after I left- 
you, and I hear that you and he were inseparable. There 
is no accounting for tastes, and I am sure I should be the 
last person in the world to interfere with yours; but surely 
you might have hit upon some better excuse for preventing; 
me from gratifying mine. ** 

Hope inwardly admitted the justice of the criticism and 
endeavored to profit by it. “ Don*t you see,** she urged, 
“ that I am not the only person who might be comprom- 
ised by Captain Cunningham*s visit?** 

“Oh! So this tender solicitude is on my account, is it?" 
I am deeply grateful; but, do you know, I think I will take 
my chance of being compromised.** 

“ Probably you don*t quite mean that. You would not 
like him to think — or other people to say — that you were 
running after him. ** 

But this appeal to Carry*s pride was not a success. 
“ How kind you are!** she exclaimed, “ and how thought- 
ful! If you had not suggested it, I should never have sus- 
pected that any one could charge me with running after 
Captain Cunningham. How could I anticipate an accusa- 
tion so utterly at variance with the facts? I have never 
asked him to Farndon before, have I? I didn*t monopolize 
him for days when he was here; I didn*t follow him to 
Dublin, as soon as he was sent there ; and I don*t keep up 


a bachelor's blunder. 


309 


a constant correspondence with him now. Of course not! 
— and nothing short of a disinterested warning could have 
put me on my guard. The only thing that surprises me is 
that you shouldn't have favored me with your warning a 
little sooner. " 

Hope hardly knew what answer to make to this sudden 
outburst of bitterness, which seemed to be prompted quite 
as much by self-contempt as by anger. She could not pre-« 
tend to be unaware that Captain Cunningham had been 
openly and persistently run after for more than a year, and 
she feared that Carry must have some inkling of the truth. 
That this was not so. Carry's next words plainly showed. 

44 The fact is," she resumed, dropping sarcasm and speak- 
ing with measured calmness, 4 4 that you have always dis- 
liked me, and that you are only too glad to have a pretext 
for causing me discomfort and inconvenience. I don't in 
the least wonder at your disliking me; all things considered, 
I should wonder much more if you didn't; but you may as 
well give up any idea that you can prevent me from doing 
what I choose. I admit that I can't ask Captain Cun- 
ningham here against your wish; only there is no reason 
why I shouldn't meet him elsewhere. All that I shall do 
will be to go up to London, where he is sure to be before 
long. You and he and the rest of the world will draw 
your own conclusions, no doubt; but probably all of you 
drew them some time ago." 

There was a cynical frankness in this speech which 
touched Hope, though it shocked her a little. She could 
not herself have spoken or acted in that way ; but she could 
understand how a passionate, self-willed woman might be 
goaded into doing so, and she had reasons of her own for 
sympathizing with the pangs of unrequited love. 

44 You are wrong in thinking that I wished to spite you, 
Carry," she said gently. 44 1 should be very glad to help 
you if I could. I am afraid I must stick to what I said 
about not having Captain Cunningham here — it is a whim 
of mine, if you like; but if my going up to London with 
you would make things any easier, I would do that. We 
might go to Bruton Street together, and then you would 
have opportunities of seeing him without — without letting 
him think that you came up for that purpose." 

Carry smiled. 44 1 imagine," said she, 44 that he has 
sufficient mother-wit to discover that much, whether I go 


310 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


to London alone or with a companion; but it would cer- 
tainly be far pleasanter for me to go to Bruton Street than 
to an hotel, and I accept your offer gladly.’" She got up 
and took her sister-in-law’s hand, looking full into her eyes 
as she did so. “ Shall we make a treaty of peace?” she 
said. “ We are too unlike one another to become friends; 
but I think you mean kindly toward me, and I am not un- 
grateful. You are a good woman, and Dick is a fool. But 
that can’t be helped. ” 

Hope allowed the latter assertion to pass. “ I do mean 
kindly toward you,” she replied, “ and I would have been 
friends with you before now if you had allowed me. I will 
do the little that I can to bring about what you wish. But 
— is he worth it. Carry?” 

“ Most likely not,” answered Carry; “ but that can’t be 
helped either. ” 

Hope bent oyer the fire, holding up her hands to the 
blaze. It was no easy matter to say what she wanted to say; 
but after awhile she made the attempt. “ In one sense,” 
she remarked, “ people are always worth what one thinks 
them worth; but then, if one’s idea of them changes when 
it is too late? If one finds out — ” 

“That one has been married for one’s money?” inter- 
rupted Carry. “ That discovery would not come upon me 
with the shock of a surprise. You look horrified; but that 
is because your feelings are not so strong as mine, or be- 
cause they are more under control, or better regulated, or 
something. I can’t say that your horror distresses me 
particularly. ” 

She crossed the room, sat down to the piano, and played 
a few bars of a waltz; but presently she returned and said, 
in an altered voice, “I am sorry I was rude to you; I won’t 
do it again, if I can help it; but you must not waste any 
more breath in trying to make me ashamed of myself. 
Good Heavens! do you suppose I don’t know how despica- 
ble I am? If my case had been curable, it would have been 
cured long ago, when I first saw that he didn’t care for me. 
At one time I thought he did. There!” she added, with 
another change of tone, “ that will do. I am not going to 
be sentimental. Come up to London with me, like a good 
soul as you are, and let us make an end of this. There 
shall be an end of it now, one way or the other; it has gone 
on too long — too long!” 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


311 


The last words were spoken with an accent of pain which 
went to Hope’s heart. She was not, and indeed could hard- 
ly be, very fond of her sister-in-law; but she thought her 
worthy of a better fate than that of being sacrificed to pay 
Bertie Cunningham’s debts, and she doubted whether even 
such a measure of happiness as Carry seemed to anticipate 
would be secured to her by the proposed journey to Lon- 
don. She did not give Bertie credit for much constancy; 
but he was not devoid of refinement, and surely it would 
be very difficult for him to make his long-deferred offer of 
marriage to Carry barely six months after his declaration of 
unalterable love for herself. Still, there appeared to be 
nothing for it but to move to Bruton Street; and to Bruton 
Street the household was accordingly transported in the 
course of a few days. 

By a tacit mutual understanding, the two ladies said no 
more to each other about the cause of their change of quar- 
ters. To the visitors who called upon them as soon as their 
arrival in town became known they represented that they 
had found it dull in the country, and that they wanted to 
do some shopping and go to the theaters. It was a week 
before the visitor to whose coming one of them had been 
looking forward with eagerness, and the other with a good 
deal of trepidation, made his appearance; and Hope 
thankful that the short winter afternoon was drawff 
close when he was announced, so that nobody’s 
were clearly discernible in that half light. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

TRISTRAM POINTS A MORA I 

Bertie advanced into the room rathe 
likely he as well as Hope was glad of t 
which only enabled him to see two shado T 
and rendered his own as shadowy to then’ 
ever, were a good deal steadier than 
all times a tolerable command over 
nance, and there was little fear of 
ment in a situation wb 1 ’ 
cruelly embarrassm 
always know*' 7 
another,;*-’' r 


312 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


to take his hand, or by some such deplorable error in judg- 
ment, should make her displeasure manifest to those whom 
it did not concern. 

But Hope was not quite so foolish as that, unwilling 
though she was to do anything which* could lead the young 
man to suppose that his offense was condoned. She rose 
as he drew nearer, and the greeting which she had been 
looking forward to with apprehension ever since her arrival 
in London was over in an instant. Bertie did exactly what 
he ought to have done. He just touched Hope's fingers 
with his, saying, “ How do you do, Mrs. Herbert?'' and at 
once turned to Carry, by whom he was welcomed with con- 
siderably greater warmth. 

“So here you are back again, safe and sound!" she cried. 
“ I am heartily glad of it; and now I hope there will be no 
more Egyptian campaigns." 

“ So do I," returned Bertie, as he dropped into a chair. 
“ At least, if there are any more, I trust we sha'n't be told 
off to take part in them as beasts of burden. If they didn't 
mean us to have a look in at the fun, they might as well 
have spared us an unpleasant voyage and saved me from a 
pretty smart attack of typhoid." 

“ But you are nearly well again now, are you not?" asked 

w. 

x h, yes; I'm by way of being convalescent. I can't 
up to much; but of course I shall be all right, 
shabby old umbrella, you know — no getting rid 
my terms. If my life had been of the smallest 
^elf or anybody else, no doubt I should have 

you say that because you want to be con- 
rved Carry. 

please contradict me. The Jews have been 
o that already. They seem to think I may 
ng to them — which shows a fine healthy 

mg in this way, addressing all his re- 
; only showing that he was not quite 
what exaggerated loquacity. By 
' ught in the tea and the 
orown pale and thin; 
^oyish roundness 
1 not lost his 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


313 


good looks, nor, as far as could be judged, had his spirits 
suffered. Hope was obliged to speak to him once or twice 
while she was pouring out his tea, and was glad to find that 
she could do so with composure. He answered her politely 
but briefly, not raising his eyes to hers, and Carry continued 
to ply him with questions about the war and about his 
illness. The presence of a third person was obviously 
neither required nor desired, and the third person was cast- 
ing about her for some excuse to withdraw, when the door 
was thrown open and Mr. Tristram was announced. 

The interruption was a welcome one to Hope in every 
way. She started up to meet her old master, who came 
striding toward her, pushing the chairs out of his way and 
upsetting one of them on his passage. 44 Why on earth do 
people block up their rooms with sech a lot of useless 
furniture!” he exclaimed. 

He made a rapid, ungainly bow to Miss Herbert, to 
whom Hope introduced him; and when Bertie, with bland 
affability, recalled himself to the recollection of the famous 
artist, frowned, and said, not over courteously, “ Oh! — 
Captain Cunningham, isn’t it? I thought you were on 
foreign service.” 

Tristram had not had the advantage of living in so ex- 
cellent a school for self -repression as the society to which 
Bertie was accustomed; nor, perhaps, would he have proved 
a very apt pupil if he had. When anything worried him 
or put him out, the fact was at once made patent to all 
who came within sight or hearing of him, and he was evi- 
dently put out- now. He would not sit down when he was 
asked, but fidgeted about between the fire-place and the win- 
dow, replying at random to Hope’s observations, and every 
now and then throwing half -impatient, half-appealing 
glances at her, the purport of which she was quite at a loss 
to understand. At the end of ten minutes or so he grabbed 
his hat, remarking, with a sigh, “ I must be off now. Per- 
haps I may have the luck to find you alone some other 
day.” 

This speech, which was made without any lowering of 
the voice, greatly amused Miss Herbert, who rather liked 
eccentric people. “ What is to be done?” she asked, laugh- 
ing. “ Shall I lead Captain Cunningham into the back 
drawing-room and shut the door?” 

“ No,” answered Hope, laughing too; “ Mr. Tristram 


314 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


shall come down with me to my sanctum and look over my 
sketches. I want him to tell me whether he can detect 
any faint signs of improvement. ” 

Tristram grunted approval to this suggestion, bade a curt 
adieu to Miss Herbert and Captain Cunningham, and fol- 
lowed his hostess out of the room. 

44 How could you be so rude!” exclaimed Hope, as she 
preceded him down-stairs. 

“Was I rude?” asked Tristram innocently. 4 4 1 only 
sa^d I wanted to see you alone; there was no harm in that, 
surelyj Those people can’t have supposed that I came here 
to see them. ” 

44 Well,” said Hope, showing him into the little room on 
the ground-floor which was affected to her special use, and 
closing the door behind her, 44 now that we are alone, what 
is -the matter? You look as if you were longing to fight 
with somebody.” f 

44 Ho I?” said Tristram; 44 that is not how I feel. I 
suppose the sight of Captain Cunningham must have exas- 
perated me; men of his type always do exasperate me.” 
He tossed his hat into a corner, threw back his long hair, 
and began to pace to and fro. 44 1 thought I should like to 
have a talk with you,” he said; 44 1 had something to tell 
you. It may not interest you; it is only a story about my- 
self, and a sufficiently melancholy one; but I shall be glad 
if you will listen to it. You know — or, on second thoughts, 
perhaps you don’t know — the kind of fellow that I am. I 
am bound to relate my troubles to somebody; and all my 
old friends are dead and gone now. ” 

44 1 am sure you know that I am interested in everything 
that concerns you,” said Hope. 

44 Yes? Well, you are kind to say so. Did your father 
ever tell you anything about my history?” 

44 He told me that you had had a great misfortune once,” 
answered Hope, hesitatingly; 44 1 don’t think he knew 
much about it.” 

44 Oh, he knew. Everybody — at all events, everybody 
in the artistic world — knew about it at the time; but it 
happened many years ago, and I dare say there are only a 
few people now who still remember the beautiful Mrs. 
Tristram, as she used to be called. I was very proud of 
her. I used to take her to all the balls and parties that I 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


315 


could get invitations for; though it was as much as I could 
do to pay for the hire of a brougham in those days, and 1 
wouldn’t for the world have asked her to get into a dirty 
four-wheeled cab. Ours was a love-match — an imprudent 
one, as I need hardly say. Her people were strongly 
opposed to it; but we took our own way in spite of them, 
and were very happy together for nearly three years. 1 
ought rather to say that I was happy; for she was not, 
though I never suspected her of being anything else. The 
catastrophe that came to pass in Paris was simply astound- 
ing to me; it was as if my dearest friend had suddenly 
turned upon me and stabbed me to the heart without any 
warning or provocation. 

“ I don’t want to go into details; the less said about it 
the better. I was working very hard at that time, and I 
wanted to learn something from the French, who were our 
superiors then, as they are still. So we migrated across the 
Channel for a few months, and the Parisians received us 
very hospitably. Of course we got to know a great number 
of artists, young and old; amongst others, a certain Achille 
de Thiancourt, a young sprig of nobility with a waxed 
mustache and a pink-and-white face, who came and went. 
I never noticed him particularly: certainly it did not occur 
to me to draw comparisons between him and myself. A 
year or two ago, while I was strolling through the salon, 
somebody pointed out to me a little shriveled, bald-headed 
old man, with a little bit of red ribbon in his button-hole 
— “ M. le Baron de Thiancourt, one of the most distin- 
guished ornaments of our profession” — and asked me 
whether I would care to be presented; but I said that was 
unnecessary. He walked with a limp, I noticed — the effect 
of the bullet with which I smashed his knee-cap five-and- 
twenty years ago. I might have killed him if I had cared 
to take his life, for I was a fair shot with a pistol in my 
young days; but I was satisfied with disabling him. It was 
impossible to feel much anger against the poor little wretch; 
if it had not been he, it would have another. She as good 
as told me so in the note which I found on my table one 
evening, on my return from the country, and which in- 
formed me that she had left me and had placed herself un- 
der his protection. She was tired of being treated as a 
nonentity, she said.” 

Tristram paused for a few moments, knitting his brows 


/ 


316 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


and staring straight before him. “Well/’ he resumed 
presently, ‘'that’s the story: it isn’t a very edifying one. 
The sequel to it came only the other day, when a message 
reached me from a doctor whom I know, telling me that 
my wife was dying and was very anxious to see me. I found 
her in lodgings scarcely a stone’s throw from my own house; 
she had been living there for several years, it appeared, but 
had seldom left the house, being in constant suffering from 
the lingering disease which killed her at last. Poor soul! 
she had had a hard life; and if sins can be atoned for by 
earthly pain (which orthodox folks say is not the case) hers 
must have been expiated long ago. I haven’t the heart to 
repeat all that she said to me about herself. She lived for 
a time with De Thiancourt, and was miserable, of course, 
as all women must be in such a position. Then he began 
to treat her badly, and one day he struck her, and she left 
him. She found herself thrown upon the world — young, 
beautiful, with no friends, no money, and no reputation — 
her fate was a foregone conclusion. She wanted me to say 
that I forgave her, and I believe she died more easily after 
I had assured her that I could say that from my heart. 
But what has haunted me ever since is the reason that she 
gave for her desertion of me. It seemed so, paltry, so 
trivial, so almost laughable. And yet the more 1 think of 
it the more I see that it was a reason like another. She 
did not reproach me with any unkindness; but she said I 
had changed toward her, that I had ceased to pay her the 
small attentions to which she was accustomed, that I never 
noticed whether she was well or ill dressed, that I was 
always preoccupied and often did not hear her when she 
spoke to me. It was quite true. I had my art to think 
about; I hadn’t the time to be forever aux petit soins with 
my wife; but I loved her no less than I bad done from the 
arst — indeed, I may honestly say that I have never loved 
any other woman in my life. Very likely I was to blame; 
I don’t say that I was not. Women, I suppose, attach a 
great deal more importance to trifles than we do, and I can 
understand what she meant by saying that she could have 
pardoned me more easily if I had been guilty of cruelty 
toward her. Yet what a mistake she made! — what a terri- 
ble, ^mistake ! She saw it, and repented bitterly of it, as 
soon as it was made; but mistakes of that kind are irrep- 
arable; there is no cure for them but death.” 


a bachelor's blunder. 317 

44 What a dreadfully sad story!" murmured Hope, after 
he had remained silent for a time. 

44 Sad enough/' agreed Tristram, 44 and common enough 
too, for that matter. There's nothing specially tragic or 
romantic about it, you see; nothing to bring tears into any- 
body's eyes; it's only the commonplace, vulgar narrative 
of a woman who left her husband in a fit of pique, and of 
the ruin that she brought upon herself by her folly. But 
I don't know that it is any the less sad on that account. 
Why have I told it to you, do you think?" 

Hope looked uneasily at him. 44 You said that it was a 
relief to you to speak of your troubles, " she answered. 

44 Ah, my dear child, if I had wanted your sympathy 
only wouldn't it have been simpler to say, 4 My wife, who 
■separated herself from me years ago, is just dead, and I am 
miserable, because I find that the misfortune which has 
made me a sour, solitary man ever since was partly my own 
fault after all, and that I might have kept her with me if I 
had been a little more considerate to her '? No; I had an- 
other reason. All this has made me think a good deal 
about marriage and married people, and to some extent it 
lias altered my opinion. I am afraid I gave you bad advice 
once, when you came to consult me. JDo you remember 
.consulting me?" 

44 Quite well," answered Hope, with an uncomfortable 
prescience of what he was going to say next; 44 but I don't 
.think you advised me badly. " 

44 1 gave you advice in acordance with my own experi- 
ence. I suppose that is what everybody does ; and it shows 
what a useless thing advice is. Nevertheless, I am going 
to do much the same again. That is, I should like you to 
think over what my poor wife's experience has been. Let 
it be admitted that husbands are apt to be neglectful and 
selfish with regard to minor matters. I dare say most of 
them are,, and I dare say they oughtn't to be. But is it 
wise to quarrel with them for that? Is it wise to assume 
that small attentions, however pleasant they may be at the 
time, are any test of real affection? De Thiancourt's at- 
tentions didn't last long, and there was no true love at the 
back of them either." 

44 1 am not sure that I quite understand you, " said Hope, 
with a slightly heightened color. 

44 1 think you must understand. I won't ask whether 


318 a bachelor's blunder. 

yon have quarreled with your husband: but I know that he 
' is gone off to America, without fixing any time for his re- 
turn, and I know that you are here in London, receiving 
visits from — from all sorts of people. As an old friend, I 
will take the liberty of saying to you that that is a dan- 
gerous state of affairs. ■' 

“ I must confess," answered Hope, “ that I should have 
considered that a very great liberty for any one but an old 
friend to take. And 1 can not allow even you to conrpare 
me — to suppose that — " 

“ That you resemble poor Stella; God forbid! Still, 
your cause for complaint is possibly something like hers. I 
am unhappy about you, and I had it on my mind to speak 
out, whether I offended you or not. Perhaps I was foolish 
and presumptuous in taking upon me to recommend you to 
marry Mr. Herbert; but what is done is done, and I can't 
but think that you may be very happy with him yet. 
Don't let a mere misunderstanding part you. He may be 
in the wrong; but you are not in the right. I know some- 
thing of the man, and he is neither selfish nor a fool; 
though it sometimes suits him to behave as if he were both. 
He hasn't gone away now because he is weary of you or be- 
cause he has a hankering after wild sport. I don't agree 
with Stiles as to that." 

‘ 4 Stiles? Has Jacob Stiles been talking to you about my 
affairs?" asked Hope, drawing herself up. 

“ Well, yes; since you ask me, he has. But you mustn't 
be angry with the poor lad; Heaven knows he is respectful 
and admiring enough in his language about you! I have 
seen a good deal of him lately, and we have talked together. 
May be I put questions to him which he couldn't help an- 
swering. Well, I have said my say now, and said it with- 
out much delicacy. I am an ill-mannered sort of ruffian, 
as you know, and it is difficult to me to wrap up my mean- 
ing in the roundabout phrases that ladies like; but at least 
I am a true friend. You believe that, don't you?" 

Hope nodded. “ But I should be glad if my friends 
could trust me a little," she said. “You are not the only 
one who has thought fit to caution me in this way. I can' t 
pretend to think it pleasant or flattering; but I suppose it 
is unavoidable. I wish — " she paused for a moment and 
then, with a break in her voice, exclaimed — “ I wish Dick 
were back again!" 


a bachelob's blundeb. 


319 


Tristram's face brightened. “Iam rejoiced to hear you 
say that," he declared. “ Will you forgive me for having 
been so outspoken with you?" 

“ Oh, I forgive you," Hope answered, though there was 
still some resentment in her heart, and she gave him her 
hand, which he took, saying that he had outstayed his time 
and should be late for an appointment. 

It would have been easy for her to set his mind at rest 
by telling him that she loved her husband, and that Bertie 
Cunningham was probably upon the eve of becoming en- 
gaged to Miss Herbert; but she did not at the moment feel 
disposed toward making confidences, nor did she think that 
he quite deserved to receive an}". 

He bade her good-bye, begging her to pay a visit to the 
old studio when she had nothing better to do, and so 
marched toward the door. But upon the threshold he 
paused and turned back. “ I want you to tell me some- 
thing about Stiles," he said. “ That is a queer fellow — a 
very queer fellow. He interests me because he is a great 
artist, and will be a greater one, if he lives; but I am not 
certain that I like him. Has he any grudge against your 
husband, do you know?" 

“He owes everything to Dick," answered Hope. “I 
don't know whether that constitutes a grudge." 

“ H'm! — it might, perhaps; though I fancy there must 
be something more. Do you know anything about the 
antecedents of Stiles? Do you know who his parents were ?' ' 

Hope shook her head. “ I have never liked to ask. I 
think he is rather sensitive upon the subject. " 

“ Yes — a badly bred one, no doubt," observed Tristram, 
musingly. “ He often reminds me of a little cur-dog that 
I once had, and hated; though I suppose the poor little 
brute couldn't help its disposition. He has a furtive, 4 1- 
would-if-I-dared ' sort of look at times which is anything 
but prepossessing." 

“ Poor Jacob," said Hope; “lam afraid I don't much 
like him either; but he has been very kind to me, and I am 
sure there is a great deal of good in him. " 

“ And a pretty considerable spice of evil. Possibly an 
out-and-out scoundrel might be a safer customer to deal 
with. Still, in all probability, he never will dare." 

“ To do what?" 

“ To assassinate your enemies," answered Tristram, 


320 A bachelor’s blunder. 

laughing. “ He would, though, if you asked him. Now I 
must really be off. Good-bye again, and don’t forget to 
come and see an old man who has very few friends left in 
the world.” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

HOPE IS TAKEN TO THE PLAY. 

Of Hope’s two visitors that afternoon, Tristram, it ap- 
peared, was not the only one who had an appointment else- 
where; foT no sooner had that gentleman been conducted 
down-stairs, as above related, than Bertie pulled out his 
watch, exclaiming: “ By Jove! I had no idea it was too 
late. I promised to call upon some people at five o’clock.” 

“ You are in a great hurry,” said Carry. “ Can’t you 
keep your friends waiting a few minutes longer? You 
haven’t told me anything about yourself yet.” 

“ There’s nothing to tell,” replied Bertie; “I am like 
Mrs. Micawber, I am in statu quo. ” 

“ Why wouldn’t you let me help you?” 

“ I told you why at the time. It was awfully good of 
you; but the thing was utterly out of the question. You 
know very well that you would never have accepted such 
an offer yourself.” 

“And what are you going to do now?” asked Carry, 
after a short interval of silence. 

He shrugged his shoulders. 6 4 That is more than I can 
tell you. The Egyptians couldn’t put a bullet into me, and 
the typhoid fever didn’t manage to kill me; so I suppose I 
must be reserved for some pleasing fate or other. ” 

“ At least, ” pleaded Carry, “you won’t do anything 
rash without consulting me, will you?” 

“ Oh, no,” he answered, with a sort of laugh, “ I won’t 
do anything rash without consulting you. It is extremely 
unlikely that I shall do anything rash either before or after 
consultation. It strikes me that rashness is not one of my 
failings.” 

Then he picked up his hat and stick and went away. 

He had not thought it advisable to mention that he was 
going to call upon a friend of Miss Herbert’s, who had only 
just arrived in London; because, in the first place it seemed 
doubtful whether Carry would have accepted that as a suffi- 




321 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 

cient excuse for his departure, and in the second she would 
have been quite capable of putting on her bonnet and ac- 
companying him. It would have been annoying if she had 
done that, for he was anxious to talk to Mrs. Pierpoint 
alone. 

Just as he was about to ring the door-bell of the house in 
Green Street, a very small and emaciated man came blun- 
dering out, lurched against him, begged his pardon, and 
\ went away down the street with hurried, devious gait, like a 
little black spider. 

“ So you 9 re here, are you, you drunken little beast ?" 
muttered Bertie. “ I wonder she doesn't have you locked 
up; /would." 

A few minutes later he was shaking hands with Mrs. 
Pierpoint, whom he had not seen since his return from 
Egypt, and whose reception of him seemed to lack the 
warmth that might have been expected after so long a 
separation. When Bertie had said all that he had to say 
about his uneventful campaign, he came to the point by 
remarking: “ Miss Herbert is in London. Did you know 
it?" 

“ No," answered Mrs. Pierpoint, “ I didn't know it. 
Is that why you are in London?" ’ 

“Yes; and I wish you wouldn't put on that stern ex- 
pression. I am going to be good; only it isn't easy, and I 
want your support and sympathy." 

“I'll endeavor to prop you up," said Mrs. Pierpoint; 
“ I can't honestly say that I sympathize with you much. " 

“ I think you ought, considering all that I have told you 
at different times; but I never met any one quite so hard- 
hearted as you. I saw her this afternoon," added Bertie 
with a deep sigh. 

“ Do you mean that you saw Carry?" 

“ You know I didn't. I did see her, too; but — oh, con- 
found it all; don't you understand what an awful corner 
; I'm in? How can I propose to the woman whom I mean 
to marry under the very nose of the woman whom I love — 
and who knows that I love her?" 

“ What is that you say?" asked Mrs. Pierpoint, sharply. 

Bertie looked a little confused. “ Of course she knows 
it," he said; “ how can she help knowing it? I tell you I 
am going to do the right thing; but I don't wish her to de- 
spise me utterly. ' ' 


322 a bachelor's BLUNDER. 

“I am afraid you can’t have it all your own way; and 
you ought not to mind being despised for doing what is 
right. What was your object in coming to me, if I may 
ask?" 

“I wish I hadn't come!" exclaimed Bertie, pettishly; 
“ you always scold me, whether I do right or wrong. Is 
it right to make a marriage of this kind? There! Answer 
that question, if you can. " 

“ I thought I had answered it, to the best of my powers, 
long ago. I really have nothing fresh to say abofit the 
matter. " 

There was a pause of a few seconds, after which Bertie 
remarked casually: “I met Pierpoint at the door just 
now." 

Mrs. Pierpoint looked at him steadily. The innuendo 
was not lost upon her; but neither Bertie nor any one else 
had ever heard her breathe a word against her disreputable 
consort. “ Yes," she said quietly; “ I came up to town to 
meet him. He is going to Monte Carlo for the winter as 
usual." 

“ Shall I be allowed to go abroad for the winter after I 
am married, do you think?” asked Bertie, with a slight 
laugh. “ I shall be all in the fashion if I do. I suppose 
you know that Herbert is away in Texas or Colorado or 
some such place?" 

Mrs. Pierpoint made no immediate rejoinder. “ Per- 
haps," she said at length, “ it would save time if you would 
teH me plainly what it is that you want me to do?” 

“ Oh, if you put it in that way, nothing. One naturally 
turns to one's friends at a pinch, that is all. If I wanted 
anything, I wanted you to see me through; but as you evi- 
dently can't or won't, I shall have to pull through as best 
I can by myself." 

“ Ah, you are not frank,” said .Mrs. Pierpoint; “ I sus- 
pect that you want a little more than that. I suspect that 
you would like me to make excuses for you to Mrs. Her- 
bert, to represent to her that you are inconsolable; but 
that, since you can't marry her, you find yourself bound in 
honor to marry somebody else. In fact, you wish me to 
point out that, taking everything into consideration, you 
are acting in a very noble and disinterested way. Well, I 
am sorry: but I must decline the commission." 

“ I never wanted you to do any such thing," cried Ber- 


A bachelor's blunder. 


323 


tie, warmly— and, to give him his due, he was not con- 
scious of having entertained the desire attributed to him. 
“ It is all very well to accuse me of not being frank; but 
you snub me so that I hardly know what I am saying. I 
must confess that when I asked you to let me call to-day, 
I expected that you would be a little more friendly. I ex- 
pected you to offer me a helping hand." 

“ In what way?" 

“ Well, I thought perhaps you would call in Bruton 
Street and — and — back me up generally." 

“ Oh," said Mrs. Pierpoint, “ if that is all, I am quite 
at your service. How am I to begin? Shall I ask the 
three of you to dinner?" 

“I wish you would!" exclaimed Bertie. “Unsympa- 
thetic as you are, I should think even you must understand 
how miserable it is for me to go to that house now." 

“ You seemed to be able to face the misery of it for a 
considerable time down at Farndon," observed Mrs. Pier- 
point. 

“ Ah, but there was always somebody to make a fourth 
at Farndon." 

“ I see. Nevertheless, you are not quite frank; but you 
shall be asked to dinner, all -the same. How would it do 
to make a theater evening of it? I am going to the play 
on Wednesday with Marmaduke " (it was by this high- 
sounding name that Mr. Pierpoint 's parents had christened 
their deplorable little progeny), “ and if you think Mrs. 
Herbert would care to join us, I will write and suggest it 
to her. " 

Bertie jumped at this proposal. “ That will do first- 
rate," he declared. “And now I hope to goodness you 
are not going to be cross with me any more." 

But Mrs. Pierpoint shook her head. “ I am not pleased 
with you," she returned, “and I don't care to pretend 
that I am." 

“ Why are you displeased? What possible reason can 
you have for being displeased with me now?" 

“I will answer you, if you like," said Mrs. Pierpoint, 
tranquilly; “but perhaps you had better not press the 
question." 

And upon reflection, Bertie thought that perhaps he 
wouldn't press the question. He had a high opinion of 
Mrs. Pierpoint's sagacity; it was quite possible that she 


324 


A bachelor's blunder. 


suspected him of having revealed the state of his feelings 
to Hope, and he knew very well that, if she charged him in 
so many words with having done so, her suspicions would 
speedily be converted into certainty. So he let the subject 
drop and went aw r ay, saying that he would see about get- 
ting the theater tickets. 

* The invitation was dispatched without delay, and was at 
once accepted. Hope was sincerely rejoiced to hear that 
Mrs. Pierpoint was in London, for she was scarcely less 
anxious than Bertie himself to secure the company of a 
fourth person; and when the appointed evening came, she 
was a good deal surprised and chilled by the somewhat 
formal welcome which the little lady extended to her. W as 
it possible that Mrs. Pierpoint, too, was disposed to look 
askance at her because her husband was in America? That 
would really be a little too bad, considering how very sel- 
dom Mrs. Pierjocint's own husband was to be seen with her. 

While these thoughts were passing through Hope's mind, 
Mrs. Pierpoint' s husband made one of his rare appearances 
. — a little, grizzle-headed, woe-begone-looking man, with a 
drooping mustache. He was said, by the few friends who 
still stuck to him, to have been a good fellow' once upon a 
time, a bold rider and a fine shot. In these days he had 
no occupations and no tastes left, except a moderate one 
for gambling, and an immoderate one for stimulant. 
When in London, hesp6nt nearly the whole of his days at 
his club, where it was his habit to fall asleep in the read- 
ing-room and snore loudly, to the great indignation of 
the other members; indeed, the attention of the committee 
had more than once been drawn to this objectionable con- 
duct on the part of Mr. Pierpoint; but as his conduct in 
other respects was more objectionable still, and as he had 
not yet been requested to remove his name from the books, 
it was, perhaps, hypercriticism to complain of a few grunts 
from one so closely resembling the animal of whom grunts 
are proverbially to be expected. Besides, there was a gen- 
eral feeling that some allowance ought to be made for poor 
Pierpoint, k ‘ because he has such a rough time of it at 
home, you know. " 

\ He advanced into the drawing-room with uncertain steps. 

/ His steps were always uncertain, his shrunken body seem- 
ing to lack the ballast requisite for a straight course, even 
in his soberest moments. At the present moment he was 


a bachelor's blunder. 


325 


perfectly sober. His wife haying informed him that some 
people were coming to dinner, he had heroically abstained 
from strong drink ever since the middle of the day, and 
was consequently in a condition of the deepest despondency. 
After he had been introduced to Hope he stationed himself 
beside her, with his head sunk upon his breast and both 
hands behind his back, and did not even attempt to make 
conversation. To everything that she said he replied by a 
prolonged, barely articulate assent — “ Oh, yes! Yes — yes 
— yes — -yes " — staring straight before him the while, with 
dull, vacant eyes. It was only when dinner was announced 
that he roused himself from his melancholy lethargy 
and said almost briskly, as he offered Hope his arm: 
“ That's a good job! Now we shall get something to drink 
— eat, I mean. " 

Hope, who had never before encountered any one afflicted 
with Mr. Pierpoint's complaint, concluded at first that the 
poor man must be suffering from incipient softening of the 
brain; but before dinner was half over, even she could not 
help perceiving what was really the matter. Nothing 
could have been more artistically excellent than that re- 
past, or prettier than the floral decoration of the oval table 
upon Which it was served; but it is extremely improbable 
that anybody, except the master of the house, enjoyed it. 
The remaining four diners were each and all preoccupied 
by anxious thoughts of their own. Mrs. Pierpoint'was evi- 
dently out of spirits; Bertie was uneasily loquacious; 
Carry, who understood quite well with what object the 
party had been arranged, was provoked with herself and 
her friends, and showed that she was so; while Hope, be- 
tween dawning suspicion of her tipsy little neighbor and 
dread lest her determination to avoid speaking to or look- 
ing at Bertie Cunningham should be noticed, was thorough- 
ly uncomfortable. 

Nor did the demeanor of Mr. Pierpoint tend to set her 
more at her ease. That unfortunate man was no seasoned 
toper of the old school, but a confirmed tippler of the mod- 
ern one, whose worn-out system was far less able to with- 
stand excesses than that of an ordinary perso/i in good 
health. Not many glasses of champagne were required to 
throw him ofi his balance, and, unhappily, loss of balance 
with him was always accompanied, in the first instance, by 
loss of temper. “Here, take away this pheasant," he 


326 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


called out to the butler; “ it isn’t fit for human food, by 
Jove! What beastly dinners you manage to give one, 
Kate! One would think you did it on purpose. I believe 
you do do it on purpose — hanged if I don’t!” 

Mrs. Pierpoint made no reply to this very unjust accusa- 
tion. She was accustomed to such outbreaks and knew 
what was the only cure for them, as did also the butler. A 
little more champagne effected a change in Mr. Pierpoint, 
which was, perhaps, a change for the better; though Hope, 
personally, was not quite sure that she considered it so. 
Leaning back in his chair, he surveyed her for a few min- 
utes, smiling blandly and approvingly; after which he said, 
with laborious distinctness of enunciation: “ It’s awfully 
kind of you, you know, to take us like this in the rough, 
you know. This is the sort of thing I enjoy. I should 
like to have a little dinner like this every night of my life. 
Shouldn’t your” 

“ Perhaps that would be rather too much of a good 
thing,” answered Hope, who certainly thought that it 
would. 

Mr. Pierpoint shook his head. “ Can’t have too much 
of a good thing,” he said calmly, “ can’t have too much 
of your company, Mrs. — Mrs. — well, it don’t matter. 
Names don’t matter. No matter names, s’long as the 
heart’s in the right place ” (here he slapped his waistcoat). 
“ Don’t you agree with me, ehr” 

“ Oh, yes, entirely; I am sure, you are quite right,” an- 
swered Hope in some haste, thinking to herself, “ I wonder 
how long it will be before he slides off his chair. ” 

However, having reached this maudlin condition, he did 
not get much worse, and beyond a tendency to run all his 
words into one, displayed no further symptoms of intoxica- 
tion until dinner was over. During the last quarter of an 
hour Hope had aiot dared to look at Mrs. Pierpoint; but 
when she did so she was sincerely sorry for the poor little 
woman, whose pretty face looked pale and old. They were 
alone together for a few minutes while they were putting 
on their wraps, and Hope was half afraid that her hostess 
was going to apologize. But she did not make that mis- 
take, only remarking: “I think Marmaduke and Iliad 
better drive to the theater together, if you will take the 
others in your carriage.” 

When this arrangement was communicated to Mr. Pier- 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


3 27 


point, who was wrestling with his ulster, he seemed in- 
clined to raise objections to it; but as nobody listened to 
him, he resigned himself to what could not be helped, and, 
after making a bad shot at the brougham and rushing out 
into the middle of the street, was brought back by the 
footman and driven away. 

. “ He’ll go to sleep as soon as we get to the theater; it 
will be all right,” whispered Bertie to Hope, who did not 
choose to make any response to this encouraging assurance. 

He thought she was annoyed with him for having been 
the means of taking her to the house of a man who did not 
know how to behave himself; but in truth she was thinking 
very little about him, and ceased to think about him at all 
when they reached the theater and when he devoted his 
conversation to Carry. The two men were seated in the 
row of stalls behind the ladies. Bertie leaned forward and 
whispered into Carry’s ear; while Mr. Pierpoint, as had 
been predicted, fell asleep and ceased from troubling. The 
play, to which Hope only lent a very small share of her at- 
tention, was one which had had a great success. There 
was a young and foolish bride in it; there was a virtuous 
husband, who was sent away somewhere to the wars; there 
was an unprincipled foreigner; there was a clever widow, 
whose mission it was to avert catastrophes and make every- 
body happy in the last act; there was a fine old English 
country gentleman, who wore a scarlet coat and top-boots 
all the year round, in accordance with the well-known habit 
of English country gentlemen; and there was a simple- 
mindgd dragoon, in love with the clever widow, who ejacu- 
lated “ Haw!” at frequent intervals and was rewarded each 
time by the peals of laughter which so subtle a stroke of 
wit would naturally provoke. How the wicked foreigner 
nearly, but not quite, eloped with the fair bride; how the 
virtuous husband appeared upon the scene, in full uniform, 
at the most inopportune moment; how a duel and a subse- 
quent appeal to the Divorce Court seemed quite unavoid- 
able; and how the widow "and the dragoon saved the situa- 
tion between them — all this Hope saw and heard with a 
profound indifference for which neither play nor players 
were to blame. In imagination she was far away from 
that hot, crowded theater; she had crossed the Atlantic 
and the wide plains of the North American continent, and 
had penetrated to the least-frequented district of frozen 


328 A bachelor's blunder. 

Wyoming. The landscape at which she was gazing was 
wild and forbidding in the extreme. Gigantic black preci- 
pices hemmed it in; above and beneath them was a uni- 
versal white winding-sheet, across which the wind swept, 
sending columns of whirling drift before it. In the fore- 
ground, stretched upon his face on the snow, was the pros- 
trate figure of a man, the rifle which he would never raise 
to his shoulder again lying beside him. She was forever 
summoning up some such pleasing picture as this before 
her mind's eye. It was true that Dick, in his last letter, 
had informed her (with evident regret) that he had decided 
to abandon the plan of wintering in a certain valley whence 
egress would be impossible before the spring. “ It would 
hardly do," he had remarked, “ to cut ourselves off alto- 
gether from reach of letters and telegrams." He had, 
however, warned her that his chances of dispatching a letter 
even from their present quarters would be infrequent and 
irregular; and as a matter of fact, she had not heard from 
him for some weeks. 

Being thus provided with ample material for self-tor- 
ment, it is scarcely surprising that she should have for- 
gotten all about the Pierpoints and Carry, and Bertie 
Cunningham, and that she should even have failed to hear 
one or two timid observations which the latter addressed 
to her over her shoulder. But it so happened that there 
was some one among the audience who was more observant 
— some one who from his place in the last row of stalls had 
been watching Hope intently ever since her entrance, and 
upon whom neither her melancholy, abstraction, nor 
Bertie's futile attempts to get a word from her, ntfr Miss 
Herbert's air of quiet triumph were lost. It was not by 
accident that Jacob was at the theater that evening. He 
had received a note from Hope two days before, in which 
she had upbraided him for not calling in Bruton Street, 
and begged him to come and dine any night that week that 
suited him, as she had only one engagement — which en- 
gagement she specified. Jacob had declined the invitation 
to dinner, not caring to force his company upon Miss Her- 
bert, but had at once secured a stall at the theater, and, 
having taken possession of it, saw — not indeed exactly 
what he had expected to see, but something that was quite 
as bad. It was easy to him to interpret the drama in 
pantomime which was being enacted a few yards in front of 


A bachelor's blunder. 


329 


him, and which interested him a great deal more than the 
drama on the stage. 

“ She is trying to break with that fellow/' he thought; 
“ she won't speak to him, and she is making herself 
miserable about him, and he is revenging himself by pre- 
tending to make love to Miss Herbert. Confound him! I 
should like to break his neck! No, I shouldn't, though. 
If she loves him, that is enough; I don't wish him any 
harm. I should like to put him in Herbert's place, if that 
would make her happy. Only I don't think I should care 
to see her again afterward. What can she find to love in 
such a puppy! It must be his handsome face, I suppose 
'■ — I'll allow him a handsome face." 

In process of time the play came to an end; the actors 
were duly applauded; the audience poured itself out into 
the narrow passages; Mr. Pierpoint woke up, quite sober 
and subdued, and our friends prepared to follow the 
stream. At the bottom of the staircase they were kept 
waiting some little time, and while Hope was standing 
there, a voice close to her ear whispered: 

“ Am I never to be forgiven?" 

She started and looked at the speaker with mingled sur- 
prise and displeasure, but made no reply. 

“ It is cruel to treat me like this," Bertie went on, in a 
low, hurried voice, “ and — and — it isn’t wise. Everybody 
must notice it. ' ' 

“ Oh, I see," said Hope, with a cold smile. “ I certain- 
ly don't wish people to notice anything peculiar in my 
treatment of you, and if you will suggest any change, I 
will try to make it. What would you like me to do?" 

“ It does seem to me," continued Bertie, in an aggrieved 
tone, “ that my punishment has been sufficiently heavy. 
Because I forgot myself for an instant I have lost your 
friendship forever. Well, I brought that upon myself, 
and I suppose I have no right to complain. But surely, for 
your own sake as well as mine, it might be better at least 
to answer when I speak to you." 

“ Perhaps it might be better still that you should not 
speak to me. But of course I shall answer when you do. 
I always have." 

“Excuse me; three or four times this evening I said 
something to you, and you never so much as turned your 


330 A bachelor’s blunder. 

head. It was rather marked — and rather unnecessary, I 
think . 99 

“ You should have spoken louder/’ said Hope. “ I am 
sorry that I was so rude; but my rudeness was not inten- 
tional. To tell you the truth, I had quite forgotten that 
you were there. ” 

Bertie drew back, looking somewhat crest-fallen. The 
explanation was not a flattering one, and its veracity was 
indubitable. Ho doubt it must be difficult for a man who 
has been uniformly successful in any line to believe in his 
own failure, and the record of Bertie’s amatory successes 
had hitherto been broken by no single defeat; but there 
was something in Hope’s quiet assertion that she had for- 
gotten his existence during an entire evening, while he had 
been sitting within a couple of feet of her, which was more 
convincing than any anger or protestation. Matters being 
as they were, he said to himself that this was perhaps just 
as well; but he was piqued and mortified nevertheless; and 
— matters being as they were — this also was perhaps just as. 
well. 

Jacob, who from the background had witnessed the brief 
colloquy between Captain Cunningham and Mrs. Herbert, 
walked away, shrugging his shoulders slightly. 

ee How will it end?’ ’ he muttered under his breath. “ But 
of course it will end as such affairs always end. There are 
only two ways out of it, and both would bring misery upon 
her. At least, there is a possible third way. Yes, there’s 
the third way. ” 

And as he glided through the crowd of vehicles which 
were waiting outside, this third way revealed itself to him 
in a light more clear and more startling than it had as yet 
assumed. 

“ Will you be very kind and come home with me?” Mrs. 
Pierpoint said to Hope. “ I told the servants to have 
supper ready, and we could talk over the play before we 
went to bed. Marmaduke has gone off to his club. Please 
do,” she added, noticing Hope’s hesitation; “ I have a 
reason for asking you.” 

Her manner was much more friendly that it had been 
earlier in the evening, and Hope did not like to refuse, 
particularly as Mrs. Pierpoint’s reason was easily divined. 
The latter made it more clear by adding: 


A bachelor’s blunder. 331 

“ If you will come in the brougham with me, I dare say 
Captain Cunningham will look after Miss Herbert.” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

BERTIE ACCOMMODATES HIMSELF TO CIRCUMSTANCES. 

Mrs. Pierpoint was never known to have a bad horse 
in her stables or an indifferent coachman upon her box. 
The light brougham which Hope had been requested to 
enter was whirled through the streets with such rapidity 
that she and her companion were still trying to hit upon 
some civil and unmeaning speech wherewith to open a con- 
versation when their drive came to an end. 

44 Let me take you up to my bedroom,” Mrs. Pierpoint 
said. 44 The others are sure not to be here for some time 
yet. ” 

Hope complied, wondering rather at the invitation, and 
was presently introduced into one of the brightest and 
coziest little apartments that she had ever seen. Perhaps 
there were more pictures and brackets and odds and ends of 
china about it than most people would consider suitable to 
a bedroom, and perhaps, like the drawing-room, it was 
somewhat overcrowded with furniture; but then, to be sure, 
the lady to w T hom it belonged did not require a very large 
amount of space to accommodate her own person. She 
pushed an easy-chair to the fireside for Hope, then drew 
another to the opposite corner, and seating herself in it, 
toasted her tiny feet upon the fender, while she held her 
fan between her face and the blaze, without speaking. 

44 How pretty your room is!” said Hope, for the sake of 
saying something. 

Mrs. Pierpoint glanced round the four walls. 

44 Yes,” she agreed, 44 1 like to have pretty things about 
me, and pretty faces too— when I can. Of course one 
can’t always.” 

Hope made no reply; because, at the moment, she hap- 
pened to be thinking of the absent Marmaduke’s face, 
which certainly could not be said to come under that 
denomination; and Mrs. Pierpoint went on: 

44 1 think it was Captain Cunningham’s good looks that 
first made me take to him. He is good-looking; don’t you 
think so?” 


332 a bachelor’s blunder. 

“ Oh, yes; nobody could think anything else/’ assented 
Hope, rather hurriedly, and was about to change the sub- 
ject; but Mrs. Pierpoint, who had not dragged Bertie into 
the conversation by the hair of his head without intention, 
was too quick for her. 

4 4 Beauty is of less importance to a man than to a wom- 
an,” said she; “ but it is an advantage to everybody. I 
don't mean that I made a friend of Captain Cunningham 
because I admired the shape of his nose; but I dare say 
that helped to attract me to him in the first instance, and 
I am sure that a great many of his friendships have been 
made in that way. When one knows him, one likes him 
for himself, I think. But perhaps you don’t like him?” 

“ Not very much,” Hope confessed. 

Mrs. Pierpoint closed her fan, and resting her chin upon 
the top of it, gazed at the glowing coals. 

“ I could see that by the way in which you behaved to 
him at dinner and at the theater this evening,” she remark- 
ed quietly. “ I don’t wonder at it, because most likely you 
have found out his defects, and I can understand they are 
not of the kind that you would pardon very readily. My 
standpoint is altogether different. I am ever so much 
older than either of you, and as one grows old one becomes 
less and less exacting. Captain Cunningham is a spoiled 
boy, and I have a liking for spoiled boys — that is, when 
they are not utterly spoiled. His virtues are his own and 
his ..faults are those of the age, as I forget who said about 
somebody else. I think he will settle down into a very 
decent, and perhaps useful, member of society. I sup- 
pose,” she added, somewhat abruptly, “you know that he 
is going to marry your sister-in-law?” 

“ Do you mean that he has actually proposed to her?” 
asked Hope, a good deal startled. 

Mrs. Pierpoint laughed. “I don’t know that he has; 
but I trust that he is either doing it now or will be in the 
course of a few minutes. At any rate, we will stay up here 
a little longer, if you don’t mind, so as to give him every 
opportunity.” 

Hope made a sign of assent. “ Will it turn out happily, 
do you think?” she asked presently. “ Bor Carry, I 
mean. ” 

“ I think there is a very fair prospect of it,” Mrs. Pier- 
point answered. “It is quite impossible to foretell how 


a bachelor's blunder. 


333 


any marriage will turn out; but one thing I know — and so 
do you — Carry will never be happy unless she does marry 
Captain Cunningham. As for him, he will accommodate 
himself to circumstances. It is his nature to do that, and 
it is not his nature to be unhappy under any circum- 
stances." 

“ I don't feel sure of him, somehow," said Hope, after 
a pause. “ He seems to be so thoroughly selfish." 

u Like the rest of them. A selfish man is not necessarily 
a disagreeable person to live with." 

“ Perhaps not — if he will consent to live with you at 
.all. 

“ Ah!" said Mrs. Pierpoint, “ if a wife can't keep a hus- 
band at home, she has only herself to blame. I was think- 
ing of my own case," she added hastily, after this not very 
felicitous speech. “ I don't generally talk about my own 
case, but I think a great deal about it, and I feel that I 
deserve most of the hard things that are said about me." 

“I can't agree with you at all!" cried Hope, warmly; 
“ I think you do yourself a great injustice there." 

“ Do I? If I do, [ am erring on the right side; but it 
does not much matter, either way, for it is far too late to 
mend now. I have been doing you an injustice, at all 
events, Mrs. Herbert. May I say as much as that?- — and 
may I beg your pardon? I ought not to have made the 
mistake, though it was not an unnatural one." 

“ I suppose it must have been an extremely natural 
one," said Hope, with a touch of impatience, “ since every 
friend that I have in the world seems to have made it. But 
I am not like you — I don't feel disposed to blame myself. 
At least, I can't see that I have been to blame lately." 

“As a general rule, nobody is very much to blame for 
mistakes of that kind, " observed Mrs. Pierpoint. “ Peo- 
ple judge by appearances; what else have they to judge 
by?" 

“Strangers may," agreed Hope; “but one expects 
one's friends to have a different standard." 

Mrs. Pierpoint made a little grimace. “It is as well not 
to expect too much even from one's friends," she re- 
marked. 

After this a rather long interval of time elapsed, during 
which neither of the ladies spoke. At length Hope broke 
the silence by reverting to a topic nearer her heart than 


334 


A bachelor's blunder. 


that which they had just been discussing. “ You say that 
a woman is to blame for not keeping her husband at home. 
But how is she to set about keeping him at home?" she 
asked. 

“ It depends chiefly upon whether she wants to keep him 
at home/' Mrs. Pierpoint answered. “ If she doesn't — if 
she is acting only from a sense of duty, a good deal of tact 
would be required, and I don't know that I should venture 
to lay down any exact rules. But if she really wishes *to 
have him with her, it is tolerably plain sailing. All she 
has to do is to let him see that she wishes it. " 

Hope confessed that she had little confidence in so sim- 
ple a system of tactics. 

“ Nevertheless, it is worth trying," Mrs. Pierpoint re- 
turned. “ It isn't an infallible recipe, I admit; but it is 
far and away the best that I know. For many years I 
have neither wished nor tried to keep Marmaduke at home, 
and that is why I am made the subject of a good deal of 
undeserved pity, besides some calumny. Shall we go down- 
stairs now? If those two lovers haven't come to an under- 
standing by this time they never will." 

The two lovers, as Mrs. Pierpoint was pleased to call 
them, had now been waiting supperless in the drawing-room 
for more than half an hour. To neither of them had the 
somewhat unrefined strategy which had been adopted for 
their benefit been altogether welcome. They had main- 
tained a reserved, not to saj r sulky, demeanor during the 
drive from the theater to Green Street, and when, on reach- 
ing • the house, they found nobody there to receive them, 
they both looked a little foolish. A thirsty horse will 
drink readily, if he be allowed to choose his own time and 
place for so doing; it is the being led to the water that 
naturally rouses an obstinate spirit in him. 

However, Bertie was not long in recovering his temper 
and aplomb . He laughed and said to his companion — 

“ Do you know why Mrs. Pierpoint has deserted us in 
this uncivil way?" 

“ I haven't an idea," answered Carry, shortly. 

“ If you would like to know, I can tell you. It is be- 
cause Mrs. Pierpoint is a great friend of mine, and because 
she wants to do me a good turn. She knows that there is 
something which I should like to say to you, if only I had 
the pluck, and she is determined that I shall say it. For 


A bachelor's blunder. 


335 


ever so long — more than a year, I think — she has been try- 
ing to screw my courage up to the sticking-point. " 

“ I should not have imagined that you were so timid," 
remarked Carry, quietly; though her heart was beating 
fast. 

“ I have some reason to be timid. It isn't quite the 
easiest thing in the world for a penniless beggar like me to 
ask an heiress to be his wife. And that is what I have got 
to do. " 

Carry neither spoke nor looked at him, so he continued: 
“ I was very nearly telling you all about it that afternoon 
in Dublin Bay; but I couldn't make up my mind to begin 
with those fellows in the boat, you know; and then I was 
sent off to Egypt; and then — " 

“ And then Dutch Oven, in the most unexpected way, 
won the Leger," put in Carry, without moving a muscle. 

This was rather disconcerting. “ I didn't think you 
would answer me like that," said Bertie, reproachfully. 

Carry laughed. “ How did you think that I should an- 
swer you? I only ask out of curiosity." 

“I thought you would give me credit for — for loving 
you for your own sake." 

“ But is that the case? Tell me the truth about it. I 
sha'n't mind hearing the truth, whatever it may be; and I 
sha'n't think the worse of you for being honest with me." 

Bertie hung his head. His system of ethics was still very 
much what it had been in his school-days; he could not tell 
a direct lie, though he would have seen no great harm in 
insinuating one. “I shouldn't have asked you to marry 
me if you had been poor," he blurted out at last. “ You 
know as well as anybody that I couldn't have done that." 

“ But if you had loved me you would have told me so, 
without asking me to marry you," returned Carry, betray- 
ing a knowledge of her suitor's character for which that 
young gentleman was hardly prepared. 

“You reject me, then?" he said. 

Carry looked at him with a queer sort of smile. “You 
wouldn't take me without my money; you wouldn't take 
my money without me," she said. “ What is to be done? 
Money you must have; and there would be no use at all in 
my making you my heir, because I am one of those per- 
fectly healthy people whom nothing short of a railway 
accident is likely to remove for the next forty years or so." 


336 


A BACHELOR* S BLUNDER. 


“ I wish you wouldn't talk like that/* exclaimed Bertie, 
reddening slightly. “ I'm not such a brute as you think 
— I really am not. You might easily find a better hus- 
band, there's no doubt about that; but if you will have pie, 
such as I am, I will do my best to be worthy of you. ** 

“ As far as worthiness goes, there is probably not much 
to choose between us/* answered Carry, holding out her 
hand to him. “ We are both of us running a risk; but I 
suppose there must be an element of risk in every mar- 
riage. Dick once told me, in his charmingly candid way, 
that I could be a confoundedly disagreeable woman; but I 
believe lie was kind enough to add that I could also be con- 
foundedly agreeable, when I chose. I shall endeavor to be 
confoundedly agreeable to you. ** Then suddenly the wom- 
an's real passionate nature broke through this crust of irony 
for a moment. “ Oh, Bertie," she exclaimed, “ try to 
care a little for me ! 1 should be satisfied with a very 
little." 

He told her that he cared for her a great deal; and 
perhaps, in a sense, he did. Certainly he would have been 
.very ungrateful if he had not. He was touched by her 
generosity and by the love which he had done so little to 
earn; possibly also his vanity, which had been deeply 
wounded by one woman that evening, was peculiarly sus- 
ceptible to another woman's healing touch; for in truth, 
vanity is more profoundly rooted in all of us than we either 
admit or suspect, and when Hope flew out of Pandora's 
box. Vanity (which is only another word for emptiness) 
must have remained behind— no getting rid of that until 
the box itself molders away. Out of nothing nothing can 
come: but during the next few minutes Bertie registered 
certain inward and laudable vows which were based, let us 
trust, upon some more substantial foundation than that 
just mentioned; and when the interview was put an end to 
by the entrance of Mrs. Pier point, he had already fulfilled 
that lady's prediction and was accommodating himself to 
circumstances. 

. Mrs. Pierpoint saw at a glance that all was as it should 
be, and made herself proportionally amiable; but it was 
hardly in her power to render the little supper-party a gay 
one. Her guests were all of them more or less' self-con- 
scious and uncomfortable; and indeed she herself was 
neither very sorry to be rid of them nor in particularly 


A BACHELORS BLUNDEK. 


337 


good spirits after they had left her. She had brought 
about the end for which she had so long been striving, 
and, having done so, it was but natural that she should be- 
gin to sigh over some of the probable results of her handi- 
work. She was fond of Bertie Cunningham, who had 
made her his adviser and confidant whenever he had been 
in trouble (which had been pretty constantly), and she was 
well aware that a bachelor friend and a married friend are 
two different persons. “ Now that I am going down the 
hill, I suppose I shall become more and more lonely every 
year,” was the melancholy reflection with which she went 
upstairs to bed. 

When Hope and Carry were driving homeward, the 
latter said quietly , 4 4 Bertie C unningham and I are engaged 
to be married. ” 

“ Oh, I am so very glad!” cried Hope, warmly. 

And in truth she was glad, both on her sister-in-law's 
account and on her own; though she could not help feel- 
ing some misgivings with regard to the future conduct of 
so fickle an individual as Bertie had shown himself to be. 

“You think I am foolish, don't you?'' Carry said. 
“Very likely I am, but at any rate I have counted the 
cost of what I am going to do, and I am old enough to 
know my own mind. Thank you for coming up to London 
with me. ” ' 

Carry's sober and rather humble tone went to Hope's 
heart. She felt for her companion’s hand and gave it an 
encouraging squeeze; and then the two women kissed each 
other. So that, upon the whole, the evening ended a good 
deal more pleasantly than it had begun. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

“ CAIK.” 

Jacob Stiles was seated in his studio in Gower Street, 
plunged in meditations which the frown on his forehead 
showed to be anxious or unpleasant ones. If, as is some- 
times averred, the furniture of a man's room be a key to 
the order of his mind, Jacob's -character must have been 
simple to a fault. The large, bare chamber in which he 
was at work was his drawing-room and dining-room, as 
well as his studio, and had served him in these three 


338 


A bachelor’s blunder. 

capacities for a considerable length of time; yet it could 
hardly be said to contain a single superfluous table or chair, 
mid it was absolutely devoid of adornment or decoration of 
any kind. An acquaintance of Jacob’s, happening once to 
visit him upon a matter of business (nobody ever visited 
him from any other motive), expressed some surprise that 
a man of so much taste should not have cared to surround 
himself with objects more pleasing to the eye; to which 
Jacob made the rather quaint reply that he was not 
sufficiently fond of himself to lay out money in that way. 
It was literally true that he was not at all fond of himself, 
and he derived a sort of grim satisfaction from dispensing 
with luxuries. He had perpetually before his mind’s eye a 
vision of what he might have been and would have been 
but for an unaccountable act of folly, for which he did not 
always feel inclined to accept the entire responsibility. 
Sometimes he was able to identify himself with this 
potential personage; and there were moments when the 
potential Jacob saw the real Jacob with startling distinct- 
ness, and despised him so heartily that the real Jacob was 
in appreciable danger of having a rope twisted round his 
neck. 

Any one who had seen this despondent young artist on the 
morning with which we are now concerned might have 
surmised that one of the above mentioned fits of depression, 
was upon him. Brushes and pallet in hand, he was seated 
before his easel, on which rested an almost completed pict- 
ure — that picture, entitled “ Cain,” which has since be- 
come so deservedly notorious. He had added a few touches 
to it in the course of the morning, but was neither looking 
at it nor thinking of it now. Jacob was a slow worker and 
a thorough one. Naturally patient and methodical, he had 
that desire for perfection, that determination that no detail 
of his work should fall below the very best that he had it 
in his power to produce, which are becoming more and 
more rare . in this age of hurry. His conception of Cain 
was a somewhat unusual one, that hapless offender being 
depicted as a slight, black-browed, beardless man, no 
match in point of physique for the brawny young giant 
who lay dead at his feet. The pool of blood which seemed 
to be trickling slowly toward the spectator, the gray flesh- 
tints of the corpse, the waving cornfields in the back- 
ground, and the red glow of the morning sky — all these 


A bachelor's blunder. 


339 

were faithfully and admirably rendered; but the fascinating 
feature of the composition was the expression of Cain’s 
face — a mixture of fear and curiosity, with a lurking sus- 
picion of triumph — the half-puzzled look of the first mur- 
derer, who, until his doom fell upon him from Heaven, 
may have felt some doubt as to whether what he had just 
done should be accounted a crime or a victory. 

Jacob sat pondering for a considerable time, and then 
rising, with a sigh, threw a cloth over his picture. He was 
not in the mood for painting, and he knew better than to 
paint when he was not in the mood. The man who waits 
for inspiration may sometimes have to wait long; but the 
man who forces himself to finish a task when his heart is 
not in his work will certainly not do his best, and may, if 
he be conscientious, find himself compelled to undo all that 
he has done. Jacob had put on his hat, and had decided 
to try what a little fresh air would do for him, when some- 
body rapped loudly on the door with a stick, and, without 
waiting for permission to enter, marched into the room. 

It was very seldom that Tristram was to be seen in any 
studio except his own; but this was not the first visit that he 
had paid to Jacob's gloomy habitation. He was, as he had 
told Hope, interested in Jacob — interested in him as an 
artist, and possibly even more interested in him as an in- 
dividual. Jacob, on his side, had taken a fancy to the 
elder man, whose genius he appreciated, and who, in a 
rough sort of way, had shown him more good-will than he 
was accustomed to meet with from his fellow-mortals. 

Tristram walked up to the young man and surveyed him 
slowly from head to foot. “ Well," he said, at length, 
4< what is the matter with you f” 

‘ ( Nothing is the matter, Mr. Tristram," answered 
Jacob. 

“ What? — a face like that all about nothing? See what 
it is to be young! At my age one can't afford to despair 
upon such small provocation." 

“ When I said nothing, I meant everything," observed 
Jacob. “ Nothing worse than usual is the matter with 
me, and everything is always the matter. I suffer from 
an incurable complaint." 

Tristram looked hard at the speaker and smiled ironic- 
ally. .“Dear me!" he ejaculated. “And what is the 
name of this deadly disease, if one may ask?" 


3*40 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


“ I don’t know,” answered Jacob. “ Perhaps it isn’t 
sufficiently common to have earned one; I’m sure I hope it 
isn’t.” 

“ Oh,” said Tristram, laughing a little, “ you’re young; 
you’re very young I If I were to make a careful diagnosis, 
I dare say I could tell you what is wrong with you; on ne 
meurt pas de cette maladie-la . But never mind; we’ll call 
it indigestion, if you like. What have you got here?” 

He walked up to the easel, flicked the cloth off the can? 
vas, and started slightly. With his hands behind his back, 
he contemplated the picture silently for some minutes be- 
fore he remarked: “ That’s an odd idea. One has met with 
a good deal of self -portraiture both in literature and art; 
but I don’t know that I ever before heard of a man who 
chose to hand his features down to posterity as those of 
Cain.” 

“ I suppose it is rather like me,” Jacob said considering- 
ly. “ I didn’t intend it to be so. ” 

“ Come, come! do you mean to tell me that you hadn’t 
a looking-glass before you when you painted that face?” 

“ I made some use of the looking-glass for my studies, I 
confess; it isn’t the first time that I have had to do that, in 
order to catch a particular expression. But the resem- 
blance of feature is accidental — so far as there is a resem- 
blance. If you look again, I think you will see that Cain’s 
nose is longer than mine, and that his eyes are set rather 
nearer together. Also there is a slight backward slope of 
the forehead.” 

“It must be very slight,” said Tristram, smiling. 
“ About one in a hundred, I should say; and I am not 
prepared to swear that your own — However, all this is 
neither here nor there. Whether the chief figure is a 
portrait or whether he isn’t, you have painted a grand pict- 
ure.” 

“ Do you think so?” said Jacob, indifferently. 

“ Yes, young man, I think so. I think it better than 
anything that you have done yet — bolder, more striking, 
superior in every way. And if you don’t consider my 
praise worth having, I can’t help it. ” 

“ Of course your praise is worth having, Mr. Tristram,” 
answered Jacob; “ to me I suppose it ought to be about the 
most valuable thing in the world that I can possibly get. 
But I don’t feel as if I could care much about anything to- 


A bachelor's blunder. 341 

day. Perhaps you yourself may sometimes have had the 
same sort of sensation." 

“ Oh, yes/' said Tristram, feeling in his pocket for a 
pipe, which he slowly filled and lighted — 44 yes, I have had 
your complaint, and so have most men. It isn't incurable; 
though everybody thinks it so while it lasts." 

4k Excuse me," began Jacob; 44 but I don't think you 
quite understand — " 

44 Excuse me; but I make so bold as to feel pretty sure 
that I do. Have you called in Bruton Street yet?" 

Jacob shook his head. 

‘ 4 Take my advice, and don't go there. Take my advice, 
and go somewhere else. Go clean away— to the other side 
of the world, if you choose — and don't come back again 
until you are convalescent. I may mention, for your com- 
fort, that I have been in Bruton Street, and that, from 
what I saw there, I am persuaded that the catastrophe 
which you and I dreaded will not occur." 

Tristrain had seated himself, and, with eyes half closed, 
was drawing placMly at his pipe. Had he glanced at his 
neighbor's face while uttering the above sentences, he 
would probably have thought him more like Cain than 
ever. 

44 What catastrophe?" asked Jacob, sharply;- 44 1 don't 
remember saying that I dreaded any catastrophe. And, 
Mr. Tristram, are you accusing me of — I hardly like to say 
it — of being in love with Mrs. Herbert?" 

Tristram shrugged his shoulders. 44 My good fellow, 
what have you been telling me for the last month?" 

44 Certainly not that. Please, never say such a thing 
again. I am astonished that you should have thought I 
could be guilty of such — such — " 

44 Presumption?" 

44 Well, presumption, if you like. I am by way of being 
a republican, and thinking that one human being is made 
of much the same clay as another (though I am not at all 
sure that I do think so); but setting all that aside, you 
must see that if I had allowed myself to feel in that way to- 
ward Mrs. Herbert, I should have been guilty of something 
a great deal worse than presumption." 

Tristram could not help laughing a little. 44 1 apolo- 
gize," he said; 44 but all this is becoming rather involved. 
It would be a dreadful thing in you to fall in love with Mrs. 


342 


A bachelor's blunder. 


Herbert, because she is a married woman; but apparently 
it wouldn't be a dreadful thing in her to be in love with 
young Cunningham." 

iC You may depend upon it that she would think it so," 
returned Jacob, quickly. “ If she were in love with him, 
she would never be able to persuade herself that it wasn't 
wrong, as some women would." 

“ But perhaps she is not in love with him. You gave 
me a fine fright about her, I admit; I dare say it was I, 
and not you, who spoke of catastrophes. But I am glad 
to say that since I have seen her I am inclined to think 
that you may be mistaken about the whole business." 

Jacob made a gesture of dissent. “ I am not mistaken. 
I was at the theater last night, and I watched them to- 
gether. They were all there — she and Miss Herbert and 
Cunningham, and that Mrs. Pierpoint who was at Farndon 
at the time of the theatricals, when Cunningham managed 
to break his leg. I wish it had been his skull!" 

“ He would have survived that, mostjikely. What did 
he do at the theater to rouse your wrath?" 

“ Oh, nothing particular. He Was annoyed because she 
wouldn't talk to him, and, by way of revenging himself, 
he pretended to get up a great flirtation with Miss Herbert 
’ — that was all. I think they had a kind of explanation 
afterward, while they were waiting for their carriage. If 
you had seen it all, your wrath would have been as much 
roused as mine, I dare say. Knowing what she is and what 
he is, one can't help feeling the pity of it." 

4 4 And sometimes you feel the pity of it to the extent of 
wishing to crack his skull, do you?" said Tristram, with a 
quick look at the speaker. 

“ Ko; not now. The only thing I wish for is her happi- 
ness, and T doubt whether I could bring that about by 
breaking Captain Cunningham's head. If I thought that 
I could, I should be very pleased to do it — and to be hung 
for it," answered Jacob, composedly. 

Tristram knocked the ashes out of his pipe, which he 
replaced in his pocket, and then, getting up, laid one of his 
large, heavy hands upon the young man's shoulder. 
“ Stiles," said he, “ this sort of thing won't do. You 
have got into a nasty, morbid state of mind; you have been 
in it for a long time; you were in it when you painted that 
picture, which is an unpleasant picture, though it's a 


a bachelor's blunder. 343 

powerful one — and you must fight your way back to sanity 
again. I know pretty well how you feel! perhaps I have 
had some experience of the same kind myself ; and perhaps 
I may once have thought that I shouldn't mind breaking a 
certain person's head and being hung for it. But men like 
you and me were sent into this world to do something bet- 
ter than to get ourselves hung. Candidly speaking, I sus- 
pect that I am a stronger man, mentally as well as physic- 
ally, than you are. Therefore I don't advise you simply 
to stay at home and stick to your work, which is what I 
did. I advise you to try the effect of a complete change 
of life and scene. Get out of England; widen your hori- 
zon; see as much of the world as you can. The world 
isn't Paradise, I grant you; but there's a good deal of 
honest enjoyment to be got out of it, and, anyhow, it is. 
better to be contented with it than to cry for the moon. 
Now, look here; I don't know anything about your means 
or resources; but if there is any difficulty about money, 
you must let me Jielp you out. We are fellow- workers, 
and it is the privilege of an old bachelor, who has more 
money than he knows what to do with, to lend a hand to 
the young ones, who haven't had time to lay by much 
yet." 

“ Thank you, Mr. Tristram," answered Jacob; “it is 
very kind of you to make such an offer, and still more kind 
of you to compare me to yourself; because there can be no 
real comparison between us — of any kind. But I can quite 
well afford to go abroad, and I hope never to be any man's 
debtor again." He continued, after a moment of silence; 
“ Perhaps I will take your advice. I have been thinking 
of going away for some time past, and very likely I shall 
go; I can't say for certain yet. There is one thing that I 
should be glad to consult you about, if I may." 

“Iam quite at your service," answered Tristram. 

“ Well, you see I have represented Cain with a plowshare 
in his hand. Could that be called an anachronism, do you 
think?" 

“ I'm sure I don't know. He was a tiller of the field; 
so I presume that he must have had a plowshare of some 
kind. " 

“ He might have had a wooden one; only that would 
almost presuppose the possession of some sharp cutting in- 
strument. People are particular about these accessories 


344 A BACHELOR'* BLUNDER. 

nowadays; it wasn't so in the time of the old masters. 
Now, do you consider that art ought or ought not to be in- 
dependent of such absolute fidelity to facts?" 

In this way the wily Jacob effected a change of subject, 
and eventually got rid of his visitor without any further 
references to Mrs. Herbert or Captain Cunningham. 


CHAPTER XL. 

Jacob's confession. 

No one, however honest and blameless, can expect to live 
through his allotted term in this world without finding 
himself in one or two awkward situations. It must be ex- 
tremely awkward for two sovereigns who have just been at 
war to embrace after the conclusion of peace; even two par- 
liamentary opponents who have been accusing one another 
(in parliamentary language) of knavery and imbecility, and 
mean to do it again on the first opportunity, may feel some 
passing awkwardness when they meet in private life; and 
certainly it is very awkward for a lady who has received a 
protestation of unalterable love to be called upon to con- 
gratulate the protestor upon his engagement to somebody 
else. At any rate, Hope thought so. Her pleasure at 
Bertie Cunningham's engagement to her sister-in-lit w was 
seriously interfered with by her perplexity as to what she 
should say to him upon the subject; indeed, she went so 
far as to ask herself whether it was absolutely necessary 
that she should say anything at all. But this was only a 
passing weakness. The bad moment obviously could not 
be shirked; and when it came, it proved to be not such a 
very bad moment after all. 

Bertie, as in duty bound, came to call in Bruton Street 
on the day succeeding that of his proposal and acceptance, 
and Hope after a short time descended to the drawing- 
room, where, fortified by the presence of Carry, she said 
what was suitable in as few words as might be. Bertie 
replied somewhat perfunctorily, but without embarrass- 
ment. “Thanks, awfully," he said. “You were quite 
prepared to hear of it, I know. I mean, I have never 
made any secret to you of what my — wishes were." 

He could not help that slight pause before the word 
“ wishes," which Hope was free to interpret as she chose. 


a bachelor's blunder. 


345 


Perhaps he meant her to understand that there were other 
things connected with his past and present conduct which 
he had been and was equally Unable to help. 

“I can not accuse myself of having concealed my wishes 
either/' observed Carry, with rather inopportune self- 
satire; 44 so the customary exclamations of pleased surprise 
maybe omitted on this occasion." 

After that it was not very easy to make any further re- 
marks, exclamatory or other; but Hope had made up her 
mind to be very gracious and to let by-gones be by-gones. 
She had also made up her mind that Hick's prohibition no 
longer applied, under the altered circumstances, and that 
Bertie might now be asked down to Farndon, whither she 
herself was most anxious to return. So she said: 44 I don't 
think we shall be in London much longer — that is, unless 
Carry has a great deal of shopping to do — but I hope you 
will come and stay with us in the country. Captain Cun- 
ningham, when we go. I am sure Berkshire air must be 
better than London fogs for an invalid. " 

Bertie murmured that he should be delighted. He could 
say no less; although in truth the prospect held out to him 
did not strike him as being precisely fraught with delight- 
ful promises. 

But Carry looked grateful. 44 I have done all my shop- 
ping for the present," she declared, 44 and we will make a 
move as soon as you like, Hope. It will be fearfully dull 
work for you, I am afraid," she added, with a touch of 
compunction; 44 but I suppose you really do prefer the 
country to London. " 

44 1 really do," answered Hope, smiling; 44 and I shall 
try and induce Jacob Stiles to come and keep me com- 
pany. " 

It was a proof of Miss Herbert's altered sentiments to- 
ward her sister-in-law that she did not merely shrug her 
shoulders at this speech, but took the trouble to excuse it 
for Bertie's benefit. 44 There is a sort of freemasonry be- 
tween artists," she was good enough to explain. 44 They 
have all kinds of things to say to each other which we com- 
monplace people can't enter into. " 

44 Ho doubt," agreed Bertie, gravely; and presently he 
asked his fiancee whether she wasn't thinking of looking up 
Mrs. Pierpoint about tea-time. Because, if she was, he 
would walk round there with her. 


346 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


“ So that is the end of it all!” thought Hope, when she 
was left in sole possession of the drawing-room; and it can 
not be denied that the lameness and impotence of the con- 
clusion caused a spice of annoyance to be mingled with her 
sense of relief. It was a little humiliating to have shouted 
“ Fire!” to the four winds of heaven about a conflagration 
which one jug of cold water, promptly administered, would 
probably have sufficed to subdue. She was still unable to 
understand Bertie Cunningham: it was difficult to her to 
believe that any man could be so fickle, so self-seeking and 
so little ashamed of being seen in his true colors; but she 
felt that she understood him better than she had done a ' 
few months back, and it occurred to her that if she had 
known him then as she knew him now, she would have 
troubled herself less about his offense — would perhaps even 
have refrained from mentioning it to her husband. “ Yet 
surely it was best to tell the whole truth,” she thought. 

“ At least, Dick will never be able to say that I have con- 
cealed anything from him; and when he comes back — ” 

Then suddenly it struck her that she had now an excel- 
lent reason for hastening the date of Dick’s return. It 
seemed unlikely that either Bertie or Carry would desire a 
long engagement, and the fitness of things clearly required 
that the head of the family should be in England in time 
to give away his sister on her marriage. Hope resolved 
that she would get the wedding-day fixed with all possible 
dispatch, and that the same letter which conveyed the news 
of the engagement to Dick should place before him the 
desirability of his at once quitting savage life for civiliza- 
tion. By dint of longing for his return, she had persuaded 
herself that all things would go well when that event should 
take place. True, what had happened was no more than 
what he had predicted; but it was not upon the proof of 
Bertie’s instability that Hope counted to gain her husband’s 
affection. What she knew for certain was that he would 
find in her a very different woman from the one whom he 
had left; and a smile spread itself over her face as she 
began to calculate how long it would be before Dick could 
possibly reach Europe, and to wonder how she would con- 
trive to while away the time during the interval. This re- 
minded her of Jacob Stiles; and she was just about to com- 
pose a friendly little note to that recluse when Mr. Stiles 
himself was announced. 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


347 


Jacob, fresh from the interview with Tristram which 
has been described, and from certain prolonged musings of 
his own which had followed it, exhibited a countenance 
somewhat graver and more morose than usual; but Hope, 
who had learned how to manage him, and was aware that 
it always took fully five minutes of careful management to 
make him smile, assumed that he was only in his normal 
state of dissatisfaction with things in general. 

“ At last!” she exclaimed,. as she shook hands with him. 
“ I really did not think that you would have allowed us to 
be in London so long without finding out where Bruton 
Street is. I was upon the point of writing to you to ask 
what you meant by being so unfriendly; but since you have 
come without being summoned, I suppose you must be for- 
given. ” 

Jacob leaned against the mantel-piece and looked down at 
the fire. “ I generally prefer to wait until I am sum- 
moned/ 9 he said, slowly. 

“ I know you do, and that is just what I complain of. 
If all one’s friends acted upon that principle what a lively 
existence one would lead!” 

“ But I am not one of your friends, Mrs. Herbert.” 

“ Thank you. Your remarks have the merit of candor, 
at any rate.” 

Jacob frowned instead of smiling. 4 4 1 think you know 
what I mean,” he returned. 11 ‘ In one way of speaking 
you have been more than a friend to me; but not even your 
kindness can ever put me in the position of your equal; 
and so — ” 

“ And so, because you will persist in that utterly absurd 
and wrong notion, I am to go down on my knees to you 
every time that I want you to come and see me. ” 

“ No; only I can not come to your house without being 
asked. You would not mind my calling like an ordinary 
visitor; but other people might.” 

“ I don’t know that other people have a right to object 
to my visitors,” answered Hope; “ but at all events, I am 
glad that you have been inconsistent enough to call to- 
day.” 

“ Ah, that is an exception. I came to-day because per- 
haps I may not see you again for a long time. I am think- 
ing of going abroad.” 

“ Oh, are you? I am so sorry!” cried Hope, in a tone 


348 


A bachelor's blunder. 


of sincere disappointment. 44 I had been rather counting 
upon getting you to keep me company at Farndon and give 
me a few more art-lectures." 

“ Are you going back to Farndon, then?" asked Jacob, 
looking up at her for the first time. 4 4 If you would really 
care to have me there, I will join you and stay as long as I 
am wanted, with the greatest pleasure." 

“Oh, no," answered Hope, laughing a little at the 
promptitude of his self-sacrifice; 44 it is very good of you to 
suggest it; but of course I must not interfere with your 
plans. ■ ’ 

44 I have no plans, properly speaking; only a very vague 
scheme. Will you be alone at Farndon?" 

44 Carry will be with me, and Captain Cunningham — in 
spite of which, I expect to be a good deal alone. But that 
is really not a sufficient reason for your giving up any 
scheme, however vague it may be. " 

44 1 consider it more than a sufficient reason," answered 
Jacob, decisively. “It is such a rare sensation to me to 
feel that I can be of the slightest service to any one that I 
hope you will allow me to indulge in that luxury for once. 
As for my journey, it is a matter of no consequence whether 
I set out upon it next week, or next month, or next year." 

Hope protested a little longer; but did not venture to 
hint, as she might have done to a less morbidly sensitive 
person, that her desire for his society was not, after all, 
so very strong as to override all other considerations. She 
would have been very much astonished, had she been in- 
formed of the nature of the service which J acob believed 
himself to be about to render to her. To that mistaken 
observer the position of affairs was as clear as daylight. 
Hope dreaded the many opportunities which country-house 
life must afford Captain Cunningham of seeking a private 
interview with her; she wished to interpose some shield be- 
tween herself and the man whom she loved, but had no 
right to love; and he (Jacob) was only too glad to be made 
use of in that humble capacity, although he did not see 
why Captain Cunningham need have been invited to Farn- 
don at all. After it had been agreed that he should post- 
pone his visit to foreign countries, for a time at any rate, 
he harked back to the subject which was always more or 
less in his thoughts and far too often upon his lips. 

44 1 am glad you are going back to Farndon," he said. 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


349 


“ If it is any amusement to you to take painting or riding 
lessons, I can give them to you there, and nobody will see 
anything particularly extraordinary in it, unless it is Miss 
Herbert, who has never been able to understand why I 
should not be relegated to the servants’ hall; but in Lon- 
don of course I could not thrust myself upon you. At least, 
I could not run the risk of seeming to thrust myself upon 
your friends. ” 

“ Why will you harp so perpetually upon that string?” 
exclaimed Hope, with a shade of impatience. ‘ 4 It is use- 
less for me to tell you that you are' all wrong about it, and 
you seem determined to shut your eyes to what is obvious to 
everybody else. It is you yourself who attach such im- 
portance to birth, not the rest of the world. You have 
only to look in the newspapers to see that society is not so 
senseless as to shut its doors against distinguished men 
merely because their fathers did not happen to be distin- 
guished too. ” And she brought forth a list of well-known 
soldiers, lawyers, and artists, in support of her statement. 

But Jacob shook his head. “ I have been a pariah for 
too many years to become anything else now, ” he said. 
“ Besides, my case is not quite the same as that of the men 
whom you mention. They may, for anything that I know 
to the contrary, have had rascals for fathers; but they have 
at least not been rascals themselves.” 

“ Do you lay claim to be a rascal?” inquired Hope, 

branded as one long ago,” answered Jacob, 
gravely, “ and the mark won’t wash off. Perhaps I had 
better tell you about it now. I have always meant to tell 
you some day, and when you have heard my story you will 
see why I can’t be your friend. At least, I suppose you 
will. Personally, I think that I have been hardly used — if 
that matters. ” 

“ If it is anything very — disagreeable, I don’t want to be 
told about it,” interposed Hope, quickly. ‘‘You say it 
happened long ago; and I would rather judge of my 
friends as I find them than hear what chey were before I 
knew them. Though I don’t believe that you were ever a 
rascal,” she added. 

“ Oh, yes, I was,” returned Jacob. ff I grant you that 
the same thing might be said of three very respectable men 
out of any chance four; but then the difference between me 


laughing. 
‘°I was 


350 


a bachelor’s bltthder. 


and the three respectable ones is that their offenses have 
not been against property. Just consider the Ten Com- 
mandments; after all, there are only two of them, the 
Eighth and the Ninth, which a man is really considered to 
dishonor himself by breaking. The Sixth hardly counts: 
there are sure to be extenuating circumstances for a gen- 
tleman who commits a breach of the Sixth Commandment. 
But itjs agreed upon all hands that he can not be a gen- 
tleman at all if he breaks the Eighth; and unluckily for me, 
the Eighth Commandment was precisely the one which I 
selected for defiance. ” 

He paused and threw one of his quick sidelong glances 
at Hope, whose countenance showed some embarrassment. 
Upon the spur of the moment, she was not prepared to 
deny that a thief is a rascal; so she thought she would re- 
main silent until she should be placed in possession of fuller 
information. 

Jacob noticed her hesitation and went on, with a some- 
what increased bitterness of tone. ‘ 4 The story might be 
made long; but I don’t know that that would improve it. 
Nothing can alter or extenuate the fact that I forged your 
husband’s name and robbed him of two hundred pounds.” 

“ Oh! What made you do that?” exclaimed Hope, in- 
voluntarily. 

“ I have often wondered. It is true that I was afraid of 
him, and that I had disobeyed him by backing horses — a 
thing which he had strictly forbidden me to do, at the same 
time exposing me to temptations which most boys would 
have found irresistible. Still, if I had made a clean breast 
of it, he would most likely have paid what I owed and for- 
given me. Being a rascal, I did not do that, but had re- 
course to a forged check. Either because I was very young 
or because I was clean out of my senses, I fancied that the 
fraud would not be discovered; but of course it was dis- 
covered at once, and the natural consequence followed.” 

“ What do you mean?” asked Hope. 

“ Well, upon second thoughts, perhaps it wasn’t the nat- 
ural consequence. He didn't hand me over to the police, 
he only horsewhipped me. ” 

Hope could not repress a slight shudder. The thought 
of physical punishment always appeals forcibly to the im- 
agination of women, and it is not easy for them to help der 
spising a man who has been flogged. Moreover Jacob’s 


A bachelor's blunder. 


851 


voice was cold and hard, with little of the ring of penitence 
in it. However, when she looked at him and saw that he 
was pale to the lips, her heart became softened. “Iam 
sorry that Dick did that," she said, gently; “ it was not 
•like him." 

“Pardon me, I think it was extremely like him; and 
what was still more like him was the way in which he 
treated me afterward— the way in which he has continued 
to treat me up to this present day. Mrs. Herbert, I don't 
complain of the horsewhipping; how could I complain of 
it? It was just and it was merciful. No man ever de- 
served a thrashing more thoroughly than I did; and if I 
had been kicked out of the house after it was over, I might 
still have considered that I had been let off cheaply. What 
was not just and what was most cruel, at least in my 
opinion, was to make me suffer all my life long for a sin, 
which, bad as it was, was more like the act of a madman 
than of a responsible being. I didn't expect him to believe 
in my repentance all at once; he would have been a fool if 
he had believed in it. But when I had given him proofs, 
when I had worked hard for years, allowing myself no 
amusements, spending next to no money, and leading as 
honest and sober a life as a man could lead, surely he might 
have consented to blot out the past! But he never has 
consented. He has never forgotten that I am a forger, 
never seemed to think it possible that I might recover my 
lost position, never for one moment ceased to despise me 
from the bottom of his heart. That is not justice; and 
that is what I have a right to resent." 

“ I am perfectly certain that you are under a delusion," 
interposed Hope. “ Dick can never have intended to be- 
have to you in that way." 

But Jacob, who had been speaking with unwonted excite- 
ment, and whose pale cheeks were now slightly flushed, 
went on, without heeding her: “ I have just finished a pict- 
ure representing Cain; Mr. Tristram, who saw it this 
morning, said the features were like my own. I dare say 
they are; I dare say I am like Cain in more ways than one. 
I have always felt sorry for Cain and for poor Esau and the 
rest of the unlucky sinners in the Old Testament, who 
‘ found no place of repentance, though they sought it care- 
fully with tears.' No place of repentance! When one 
reads that one feels that it can't be true; human nature 


352 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


revolts against the purposeless cruelty of such a doom. 
And yet that is the doom which your husband would like 
to pass upon me and upon everybody who has transgressed 
the limits of his narrow and arbitrary code. He, forsooth, 
would laydown the law! H$ would .say, ‘This sin shall 
be pardoned and that shall not ’ — lie, who is himself so 
immaculate, so unselfish, so considerate of others ! Oh, I ■ 
know that I owe everything to him; I can’t pay my debt, 
do what I may. I paid him the two hundred pounds that 
I stole from him, and he tossed the money into a drawer. 
We can never cry quits; I admit that. But I deny that I 
owe him any affection.” 

This harangue astonished Hope as much as it distressed 
her. She had seen enough of Jacob’s manner of life at 
Tarn don to know that his grievance was not altogether im- 
aginary; but she could not acquiesce in his distorted view of 
Dick’s character. 

“ Don’t you think,” she said gently, “ that you may be 
doing Dick an injustice in fancying that he has done you 
one? I have never heard him speak of you with anything 
but kindness — certainly never with contempt. And you 
must remember,” she added, more with the object of put- 
ting an end to a painful conversation than because she 
resented Jacob’s strictures, “ that he is my husband.” 

But Jacob’s emotion had carried him out of himself, and he 
took no notice of a hint which at ordinary times he would have 
been the first to accept. “ I am not likely to forget that!” 
he exclaimed. “If he had been a good husband to you — 
if he had done his duty to you, or even attempted to do it, 
that would have been something in his favor; but his code 
contains no such obligations.” And then as Hope was 
about to speak — “ Mrs. Herbert, you know that he has not 
made you happy. Can you honestly say that you have 
been happy with him?” 

It would have been easy for Hope to silence her ques- 
tioner, who was undoubtedly forgetting himself in putting 
so indiscreet a query; but she had a feeling that it would be 
ungenerous to do this, and it had never been easy to her 
to tell a lie. So she made what, under all the circum- 
stances, was a somewhat unfortunate answer: 

“ If our life has not been as happy as it might have 
been,” she said, dropping her eyes and blushing a little, 
“ that is entirely my own fault. ” 


A bachelor’s bltthder. 


353 


Her reply produced an unexpectedly sobering effect upon 
Jacob, who sighed, as he moved a few paces away from the 
hearth, where he had been standing. “ Yes,” he mur- 
mured presently, speaking rather to himself than to her, 
“ it has been your own fault. At any rate, you would be 
sure to say so, and I don’t know that I should wish you to 
say anything else; you would not be yourself if you did. 
Yet you are not really to blame; and the worst of it is 
that you can never be happy with Herbert. The whole 
world seems to have got askew, somehow.” 

“ Of course it does, if we look askew at it,” returned 
Hope. “ Please don’t talk like this any more. When 
Dick comes back — which will be in a few months, I hope — 
we will try to set the world straight again; and perhaps that 
won’t be such a hard matter as you suppose. I can quite 
see that he may have seemed to be unjust to you; but de- 
pend upon it, it was only seeming. I am sure he will be 
as grieved as I am when he hears how you have suffered. 
Whatever he may be, he is not hard-hearted. ” 

“ You at least are not, Mrs. Herbert,” said Jacob, smil- 
ing for the first time. “ You always see the good in 
everybody — even when there isn’t very much to be seen. 
After what I have told you, you can’t think very well of 
me; but I dare say you think that I have atoned for my 
crime as far as it can be atoned for.” 

“ I don’t think it was a crime at all,” answered Hope; 

I think it was what you called it just now, an act of mad- 
ness. Besides, I suppose that not many of , us have re- 
pented of our sins as you have.” 

Jacob took her hand and raised it silently to his lips. 

“ And now,” she continued, “ let us put the whole sub- 
ject out of sight until Dick comes back. By the wa}q I 
have never told you all this time that we are to have a wed- 
ding in the family soon. Carry accepted Captain Cunning- 
ham yesterday.” 

“ What?” exclaimed Jacob, staring back in amazement. 

And then Hope suddenly remembered that afternoon 
when Jacob had brought her a note which she had torn in 
pieces before his eyes. The recollection brought the color 
into her face. Doubtless, Jacob, like everybody else (only 
with rather more excuse than other people), had conceived 
a mistaken idea of her feelings for ^Captain Cunningham. 
It was provoking; but she had no desire to enter upon an- 


354 


a bachelor's blunder. 


other explanation with regard to that affair; and she was 
beginning hurriedly: “ There is nothing to be surprised 
at—" when, much to her relief, the door was opened and 
in sailed Lady Jane Lefroy. 

Lady Jane embraced her niece affectionately. “ My 
dear Hope, so delighted to see you again ! W e only came 
np yesterday; and this afternoon I met your friend, Mrs. 
Pierpoint, who told me the good news. Isn't that Mr. 
Stiles? How do you do, Mr. Stiles? I remember you quite 
well at Farndon, where you were so clever about arranging 
the theatricals, and that bust that fell down and broke poor 
Captain Cunningham's leg. I have always been hoping 
to have an opportunity of telling you how charmed I was 
with your pictures in the last Academy." 

Lady Jane was overflowing with satisfaction and geni- 
ality. She sat down and asked if she might be allowed a 
cup of tea; and as Jacob saw that he would have no more 
private conversation with Hope that afternoon, he soon 
took his departure. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

IN THE WOODS. 

Not long ago two old friends were discussing a proposi- 
tion boldly enunciated . by the one and courteously combated 
by the other. “ What you say sounds plausible enough," 
the latter observed; “but as, unfortunately, facts are 
against you, I am afraid there is a flaw in your theory." 
And straightway he adduced the facts alluded to, which, 
indeed, were not such as to admit of denial. 

“ I can't help that," returned the theorist. “ I know I 
am right; and, therefore, if there is a flaw anywhere it 
must be in the facts." That closed the debate. 

Jacob Stiles, if less audacious than this lady — it is per- 
haps hardly necessary to mention that the disputant was a 
lady — was not less tenacious of his theories; nor, even in 
the face of such a fact as Captain Cunningham's engage- 
ment to Miss Herbert, could he bring himself to believe 
that for so many months past he had been laboring under 
a complete misapprehension. Certainly he had been stag- 
gered by Hope's communication; but after turning it over 
m his mind awhile he perceived that what had occurred 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


355 


was not so very inexplicable, after all. “ Partly pique and 
partly prudence/" was the conclusion at which he arrived. 

The fellow is hard up, I suspect; he would like Miss 
Herbert's money well enough, and no doubt he has suffi- 
cient worldly wisdom to see the absurdity of remaining 
single and losing a fortune for the sake of a woman who 
won't give him any encouragement. I wonder whether it 
wouldn't be "almost better to let him go! How can one 
tell? He is not worthy to be named on the same day with 
her; but then I knew that before. I won't do anything 
yet; I will go down to Farndon and watch them. But if I 
see that she cares for him still, and that the loss of him 
would make her wretched forever—" 

Jacob did not put the remainder of his sentence into 
words, even mentally. There are thoughts with which the 
mind may be perfectly familiar, but which never find ex- 
pression until the moment for action comes; and to Jacob 
that moment had not yet come, though he had long fore- 
seen its approach. During the ensuing week he put the 
finishing touches to his picture of Cain, and, as soon as the 
canvas was dry, forwarded it, together with the following 
note, to Tristram's house: 

4 4 Dear Mr. Tristram, — It is not unlikely that I may 
be out of reach of communication in the early part of next 
year. As you are aware, I have no friends whom I can ask 
.to act for me- in my absence except yourself. Your kind- 
ness has induced me to believe that I may take a liberty 
with you, and therefore I venture to beg that you will give 
my picture house-room until the proper time comes for 
submitting it to the Committee of the Koval Academy, 
and that you will then send it in in my name. Should T 
return to England before that date I will of • course relieve 
you of your charge; but most probably I shall soon make 
for some outlandish part of the world; and it has occurred 
to me that, if I were to die or be killed, you might be in 
doubt as to what to do with the picture. So I will just 
mention that, in that event, I should like you to accept it 
as a small token of gratitude from 

“ Your faithful and obliged servant, 

‘ 4 Jacob Stiles. 

“ P.S. — In case of the picture becoming your property, 
pray do as you may think best with regard to showing it 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


356 

publicly; but I may say that my own wish would be decid- 
edly that it should be exhibited. ” 

This was not the only sign that Jacob contemplated a 
prolonged and distant tour. Hitherto he had been in the 
habit of leaving the greater part of his few earthly posses- 
sions in Gower Street; but now he packed-all these up, 
paid his landlady a year’s rent in advance, and informed 
her that he could fix no date for his return. He might be 
back in a few months, or he might (life being uncertain) 
never come back at all. 

“You haven’t found me a very troublesome tenant, I 
think, Mrs. Jones?” he said, hesitatingly. 

“ Ho, indeed, sir; fur from it, sir,” answered the land- 
lady, eying her check lovingly. 

“ And — er — you would be sorry to lose me, I dare say?” 

“ That I should, sir.” 

“Oh, well,” said Jacob, in an altered tone, “ I suppose 
all landladies would be sorry to lose a tenant who paid his 
rent and didn’t make a row. Good-bye, Mrs. Jones.” 

“ Good-bye, sir,” returned Mrs. Jones, cheerfully, “ and 
a pleasant journey to you.” 

It is a fact that she had no personal affection for her 
silent lodger, and was far from imagining that he was ap- 
pealing to her for an expression of any such sentiment. 
Yet that was what he bad been appealing for to anybody 
and everybody (in a most unintelligible fashion, no doubt) 
all his life; and only two persons, Hope and Tristram, had 
responded in the smallest degree. He bade farewell to 
Gower Street without regret, and in the evening reached 
Farndon, whither the family had preceded him by a few 
days. 

Hope, sitting at her writing-table by the window, saw 
him drive up, and waved her hand to him, which friendly 
signal he acknowledged by a grave bow. After, he had 
disappeared she devoted several minutes to pitying poor 
Jacob and promising herself that his life should be made 
less dreary for him in the future than it had been in the 
past. She had not been displeased by the harsh things that 
he had said of her husband, because she had divined the 
attachment and the longing for forgiveness which had 
pompted them. Also she thought that, if she had been in 
Jacob’s place, she would have been to the full as sore and 


A BACHELOR^ BLUNDER. 


357 


angry as he. What worse fate, indeed, could befall any 
mortal than that of being sent to Coventry by Dick? 
However, she was too busy with a certain letter upon 
which she was just then engaged to bestow more than a 
commiserating thought or two upon Jacob Stiles. 

“ They talk of the middle of June for the wedding,” she 
wrote, resuming her interrupted sentence; “ but both of 
them say that they would rather put it off for some weeks 
than be married while you are away. I am sure you will 
not mind coming back a little sooner than you had intend- 
ed, though Carry seems to think that you may. She is 
writing to you herself, and she tells me that there is no real 
necessity for your return — I mean as regards drawing up 
settlements, and all that — but she does very much wish 
you to be present; and so do I.” The last word was erased 
(not, however, in such a manner as to render it illegible), 
and “ we all ” substituted. 

“ Captain Cunningham came down yesterday / 9 the 
writer continued, “ and will stay for some time, I sup- 
pose. I would not ask him before, because of what you 
said about it; but I thought I might take it for granted 
that you would not disapprove of his being here now. He 
means to give up the army, I believe, and they are to live 
in Yorkshire. Carry says there will be so much to do in 
the way of alterations and additions to the house that they 
will want no other occupation for several years to come. 
They seem to be really fond of each other, and are always 
talking over plans. Of course, though, I do not see much 
of them.” 

The letter was continued in the same somewhat formal 
and labored style for another half page, and ended up with 
a polite hope that game had been plentiful and that En- 
glish life would not be found very tame after the exciting- 
experiences which were doubtless to be met . with daily 
among the mountains of the far West. .The fact was that 
Hope had not found the composition of this epistle by any 
means an easy task. She did not want to tell Dick how 
very eager she was to see him again; at the same time she 
was terribly afraid lest, in his easy-going, unconventional 
way, he should declare that his sister was old enough to 
take care of herself, and could get married without any 
need for his support. Then, too, it had been extremely 
difficult to write about Bertie Cunningham without either 


•358 a bachelor's blunder. 

saying what was untrue or what would have been better left 
unsaid; so that, upon the whole, the letter was not a suc- 
cess, and she knew that it was not, although she could not 
see her way to improving it. 

In the absence of a request which Hope, after some 
vacillation, thought it wiser to withhold, Jacob did not ap- 
pear at the dinner-table that evening; nor was he to be dis- 
covered in his studio when sought for the next day. It 
appeared, upon inquiry, that he had been seen to leave the 
house on foot at an early hour, and it was partly with the 
expectation of encountering him, partly in order to leave 
the entire house and garden at the disposal of the engaged 
couple, that Hope herself strolled across the park soon 
after breakfast and made for the bare woodlands that over- 
shadowed the lake. In that direction, as she knew, Jacob 
most commonly bent his steps, and it was among those 
trees that she had often come upon him, pacing slowly 
along, with his hands behind his back and his head sunk 
upon his breast, in gloomy meditation. 

Her own meditations, that morning, were not quite as 
cheerful as they might have been. Having for some days 
past been buoying herself up with hopes that her troubles 
might be approaching an end, it was not surprising that 
she should now begin to experience a reaction and should 
ask herself what real ground there was for supposing that 
the future would differ from the past? Why should it? 
There was a great deal of truth in what Jacob had said and 
implied about her husband. The distinctive feature of 
Dick's character was its unchangeableness. He had made 
up his mind to a marriage without love; he had 'weighed 
the advantages and disadvantages of such a union, and 
would probably never have regretted entering upon it had 
he not become convinced that his wife had fallen in love 
with Bertie Cunningham. Whether that conviction could 
now be removed, and whether, if it were removed, he 
would ever be anything more than a considerate friend to 
her, Hope felt to be doubtful. She could not help fearing 
that it was too late — that she had let her opportunity go 
by. In the early days of their married life she might pos- 
sibly have made him love her; but now — The wind, 
sweeping through the naked boughs and driving a few of 
last year's dead leaves before it, seemed to sigh, Too 
late!" Nature, as all the world knows, can be eloquent 


A bachelor's blunder. 


359 


enough upon occasion; but those who wish to hear her 
true voice must approach her without preoccupations of 
their own; and, as this is not a common condition among 
mortals. Nature for most of us only acts the part of an 
echo or a mirror. Beneath Hope's feet early violets were 
peeping out here and there; above her head the buds were 
tipped with green; in the pale sunshine and the mild air 
there was promise of spring. These things ought to have 
suggested to her that sorrow is no more eternal than joy, 
that fair weather must follow rain, and summer winter, 
and that there is always a good time coming for those who 
have the patience to wait for it; but what they actually did 
suggest to her was that every- dog has his day, that new 
years are for new people, and that the past never returns. 
Therefore, she sighed as she went her way, and, failing to 
discover Jacob Stiles (to whom she would have been glad 
to confide a measure of her forebodings, with a view to be- 
ing contradicted), ended by turning round and heading for 
the house again. 

Presently her ear caught the sound of an approaching 
footstep, then an abrupt bend in the path along which she 
was walking brought her face to face — not with Jacob 
Stiles, but with a far less welcome intruder upon her soli- 
tude. 

“ All by yourself, Captain Cunningham?" was her greet- 
ing, not very cordially spoken. “ Where is Carry?" 

‘‘Writing letters in-doors," answered Bertie, throwing 
away the end of his cigar. “ I saw you going off in this 
direction," he added, “ and it occurred to me that I would 
follow you." 

Hope looked as though she thought he might have had 
a happier inspiration. “ I am going home now," she re- 
marked. 

“Then, if you don't mind. I'll walk with you," said 
Bertie. 

To this she made no reply; so he turned and accom- 
panied her for some little distance without opening his 
lips. “This is the first time that I have seen you alone 
since— since — last summer," he observed, at length. 

“ Yes," she answered, briefly. 

“ Mrs. Herbert — is it peace?" 

She turned upon him with a quick, impatient frown. 
Why would he not consent to let well alone? It seemed to 


360 A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 

'her that his question was in the worst conceivable taste; but 
it might be better to answer it, once for all. “ Of course 
it is peace,” she said; i i but please never refer to this 
again. '' 

“ I promise you that I won't after to-day,” he answered, 
with something of a sigh. And then, “ I wonder what you 
think of me!” 

Hope was upon the point of saying, “ I don't think 
about you at all;” and this, no doubt, would have been the 
best and most conclusive answer to make. But, remem- 
bering, somewhat unseasonably, that she was indebted to 
Bertie Cunningham for most, if not all, of the sorrows 
which had come upon her, she was constrained to reply, 
“ I don't know why you should wish to hear my opinion of 
you. You must be curiously sanguine if you expect it to 
be a flattering one. '' 

“ But of course I don't expect that,” said Bertie, hum- 
bly; “ all I wanted to know was whether it was so bad as 
to prevent the possibility of our ever being friends again. '' 

“ Well, since you ask me, I think it is; that is to say, if 
by friends you mean intimate friends. But perhaps you 
only mean that it would be very inconvenient for us to be 
enemies. There I quite agree with you ; so you need feel 
no alarm on that score. When we meet I shall not behave 
in such a way as to excite remark.” 

“ In other words I have forfeited your friendship for- 
ever. I suppose 1 have no right to complain; but I must 
say that I think it a severe sentence. Perhaps it doesn't 
seem so to you, because you don't know how much I value 
„ your friendship. I should have thought you might have 
pardoned me now. Once — just for one moment — I lost 
my head and let out what I ought to have kept to myself. 
I was very sorry for it afterward and I told you so; and it 
is an offense which certainly can never be repeated. Whether 
I had any excuse or not — " 

“ There could be no excuse,'' broke in Hope. “ If you 
want me to say that I forgive you I will do so willingly; I 
could have said, as much as that long ago. But it is quite 
out of my power to think of you as I used to think.'' 

“ But why? You never thought too well of me; you 
knew I was no better than other fellows. I fancied that 
you knew even that — that — ” 


a bachelor's blunder. 


361 


“ Never!" exclaimed Hope. . 44 I did not suspect you of 
it for one moment." 

44 You speak as though it had been a crime. How can 
one help — However, I won't risk offending you again. 
Only you might take into consideration the circumstance 
that it was I, not you, who suffered." 

Hope stood still for a moment and stared at him. She, 
forgot that, not being in possession of all the facts, he 
might hold such an opinion with sincerity; the depth of his 
selfishness seemed to her simply amazing. 

44 Do you really mean that?" she exclaimed. “ Or do 
you say it merely because you have got into the habit of 
saying that kind of thing? In what way have you suffered? 
I, who was innocent, have had to suffer in a hundred ways; 
but you have never considered any one but yourself all 
along. A year ago, when we were so much together in 
London, you must have known perfectly well — though I 
did not — that I should be accused of flirting with you ; you 
must have known that people like Lady Chat.terton would 
put the worst construction upon what I only meant for 
friendliness; and I should think you must have guessed 
that impertinent things would be said to me about it. At 
all events, they were said. But that was nothing. It was 
horrid, and it made me miserable at the time; still, it was 
nothing in comparison with what happened afterward. 
Dick would never have gone away and left me if you had 
not, as you say, 4 lost your head ' and spoken to me as you 
did; and if Dick and I remain estranged all our lives, it 
will be your doing. And then you pretend that you have 
not made me suffer!" 

Bertie's eyes became very round, and his jaw dropped 
slightly. What was even more startling than Hope's vehe- 
mence was the unexpected revelation of her love for her 
husband. That she actually was in love with her husband 
he could not doubt. A fact; but surely a most marvelous 


44 1 — I'm awfully sorry," he stammered. 44 But don't 
you think you must be mistaken — I mean, about the reason 
of Herbert's going to America?' It couldn't have been oil 
account of that, for he never can have known it." 

44 1 told him of it," answered Hope, quietly. 

Bertie's eyes grew rounder than ever. 44 Good gracious!" 
he exclaimed; 44 you didn't do that!" 


362 


a bachelor's blunder. 


“ Yes, I did. It was a foolish thing to do, perhaps — at 
any rate, you would consider it so — but I didn't choose to 
have any secrets from him. He was not surprised, nor 
particularly shocked; he knew exactly how it would end, 
and he told me that you would propose to Carry before 
long — just as you have done. " 

Bertie bit his lip. He walked on for some minutes in 
silence, and it may be assumed that his thoughts were not 
of the pleasantest nature. Hope, meanwhile, lagged be- 
hind and surreptitiously wiped away the tears which had 
risen into her eyes. Already she was a little ashamed of 
having displayed her feelings so openly; yet she was not 
•sorry that Bertie should be made acquainted with the truth. 

“ But, even if Herbert did know what I was going to do 
so much better than I knew myself," he said, when she 
joined him again, “ I don't quite understand why that 
should have made him leave the country. " 

“ At any rate," she returned, “ you must understand 
that our old friendship can not very well be reyived. But 
there is no use in talking about it any more. Let us drop 
the subject now. Whatever my future may be, you may 
be sure that I shall not trouble you with any more re- 
proaches." 

“But, indeed," exclaimed Bertie, eagerly, “it isn't so 
bad as you think. I'll speak to Herbert as soon as he 
comes back; that much, at least, I can do in the way of 
reparation. There is still time to correct a mistake, and I 
don't see what should prevent your future from being hap- 
py. Herbert will be back in a couple of months, I sup- 
pose, or sooner; and — Halloo, Stiles! where on earth did 
you drop from? I wish you wouldn't make a man jump 
out of his skin in that way!" 

“ I beg your pardon," said the subject of this apostrophe, 
who had bounded into the path from above, without any 
warning; “ I missed my footing, and came down the bank 
more quickly than I intended. " 

Perhaps it was the velocity of his descent that made him 
so pale. He took off his hat to Hope, but avoided looking 
at her; and a rather awkward pause ensued. Bertie was 
disconcerted and angry, fearing that his last words had 
been overheard, and suspecting Jacob of having played the 
eavesdropper; Jacob himself, standing in the middle of the 
path, with downcast eyes, neither moved nor spoke. He 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


363 


seemed to be hardly conscious of where he was; and it was 
only when Hope said, “We are going homeward; will you 
come with us?” that he started and roused himself. 

“ I — no, thank you; I will walk a little further, I 
think/ ’ he replied, hurriedly; and, with another bow, he 
plunged into the undergrowth, and was soon out of sight. 

It must be confessed that Bertie’s suspicions were not 
wholly unfounded. A gentleman, as every one will agree, 
is incapable of acting the part of a spy; but poor Jacob Stiles, 
who was not a gentleman, may have been slightly deficient 
in respect of delicate points of honor, and may have drawn 
distinctions between deliberate espionage and mere casual 
use of the senses with which nature had endowed him. 
Such distinctions ought not to be drawn; and Jacob was 
punished for his casuistry by seeing and hearing too much 
and too little. Wandering through the woods, with no 
worse intention than to seek relief for a troubled mind, he 
had discerned the two persons about whom his mind was 
chiefly troubled progressing slowly, side by side, at a some- 
what lower level, and had paused for a moment to watch 
them. Then, when he had seen Hope take out her hand- 
kerchief, and raise it to her eyes, the temptation to ap- 
proach them stealthily had been irresistible, and he had 
yielded to it. Thus he had come within ear-shot just in 
time to hear Captain Cunningham declare that a mistake 
might yet be corrected, and that Hope’s future might be 
happy; also that Herbert would not be home for another 
two months. It was at this particularly unlucky juncture 
that Jacob’s foot slipped, and that he interrupted the col- 
loquy, as above related. From what had reached his ears 
he could deduce but one inference; and that it was not of a 
very agreeable kind was shown by the frown which con- 
tracted his brow as he brushed through the thickets, and 
the look of set determination which gradually fixed itself 
about the corners of his mouth. He marched straight on, 
not noticing whither he was going, for a considerable time; 
but at length he came to a stand-still, leaned back against 
the trunk of a tree, folded his arms, and gave. a great sigh. 

“ Well,” he exclaimed, aloud, “I am glad, the die is 
cast, anyhow! It is something to have finished with doubt. 
The thing must be done, and I must do it; no escape now!” 

All of a sudden a violent fit of trembling seized upon 
him, and he sunk down upon the ground, dropping his 


364 


A bachelor's blunder. 


* 

head upon his hands. The attack, whatever it was, lasted 
only a few minutes. He raised his head by and by, and 
looked about him, frowning, like a man who has just awoke 
from sleep. “ What is the meaning of this? Am I a 
coward, in addition to my other virtues?" he muttered, 
with a sneer. “Ho, I don't think I am that. I never 
was considered so. After all, I always knew it would come 
to this. If only I am not too late to save her! But I 
won't think of that! I won't think of anything! The 
time for thinking has gone by." 

Nevertheless, he remained \vhere he was, lost in thought, 
for another half hour; and when at last he rose, and 
walked away, his face had the haggard, drawn look of one 
who is still passing through a severe mental conflict. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

JACOB UNDER A NEW ASPECT. 

“ I hear," said Carry, while she and Hope were sitting 
together, late in the afternoon, with the tea-table between 
them, “that Stiles is somewhere about the premises. 
Wouldn't it be as well to ask him to dine with us?" 

Hope raised her eyebrows. “ I should be delighted to 
have him at dinner," she answered; “ but I thought you 
objected so strongly to his being received in this way." 

“ I certainly did, once upon a time; but a good many 
changes have taken place since then. To begin with, I am 
no longer mistress of the establishment, and I can't be 
held responsible for what goes on in it. Secondly, Stiles 
has made a position for himself which entitles him to be 
received, and to be called ‘ Mr. Stiles,' if you and he wish 
it. Thirdly, you like talking to him. Fourthly and final- 
ly, a triangular conversation is the greatest bore in the 
world." 

Probably the last reason assigned by Miss Herbert was, 
in her eyes, the most cogent; but she was also willing to 
show Hope a pleasure, feeling that she had obligations in 
that quarter. “ I don't like Stiles," she went on, medi- 
tatively; “I have always thought, and I think still, that 
there is something about his face which suggests the tread- 
mill, and I have every reason to believe that he hates me 
like poison. Nevertheless, I suppose he ought hardly to 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 365 

be treated as a dependent any longer, We might have 
him down to-night and see how he behaves himself. If 
the experiment doesn’t succeed, we needn’t repeat it.” 

“I will ask him, then,” said Hope, smiling; “and I 
think I can answer for his behaving properly, if he comes. 
But I am pretty sure that he won’t come.” 

4 4 1 am quite ready to stake half a crown against a six- 
pence that he does,” rejoined Carry, calmly. And she 
would have been a sixpence the richer if her bet had been 
accepted; for, rather to Hope^s surprise, the footman who 
was sent up to Jacob’s studio with a note returned prompt- 
ly to say that Mr. Stiles 44 desired his compliments, and 
would have much pleasure.” 

Everybody noticed that there was something odd about 
Jacob Stiles when he made his appearance in the drawing- 
room that evening, just after the dinner-bell rang. He 
was not at all like himself, and certainly he was most un-- 
like the wan, despairing-looking man who had issued from 
the woods a few hours before. His eyes were bright; his 
cheeks, for once, had a tinge of color in them; he entered 
the room with a smile upon his face, and carried his chin 
quite a couple of inches higher than usual. Without wait- 
ing to be addressed, he began talking to Hope in an easy, 
conventional fashion, just as if he had been an ordinary 
guest and as if his presence had not signified the breaking 
down of a long-established barrier. 44 We have made a 
mistake,” whispered Carry to Bertie. 44 He thinks he has 
got the recognition that he has been trying for all his life, 
and he will proceed to give himself insufferable airs upon 
the strength of it. ’ ’ 

But he did nothing of the kind. To whatever cause the 
change in his demeanor may have been due it was not a 
change to which any exception could be taken. In the 
last chapter it was remarked that he was not a gentleman; 
but that, as to the externals, he could assume all the sem- 
blance of a gentleman, and even of a very agreeable one, 
was made apparent before he had been seated five minutes 
at the dinner- table. Without putting himself forward in 
any way, he contrived not only to talk rather more than 
his neighbors,* but to show them that he was both cleverer 
and better informed than they. Upon every subject that 
chanced to come up he had something bright and original 
to say, and said it quite spontaneously. He was perfectly 


366 a bachelor's blunder. 

at his ease, and, one would have thought, perfectly nat- 
ural; only that it was difficult for those who knew him to 
believe that in all their previous intercourse with him he 
had been acting a part. If this was the real Jacob, for 
what imaginable reason had he concealed his identity so 
long and under so repellent a disguise? Hope, though 
pleased to see her protege distinguishing himself, could not 
make him out at all; and Carry, after one or two attempts 
to snub him, which were foiled by his courtesy and deter- 
mination not to see what she meant, fairly hauled down her 
colors, and admitted to herself that she had formed a mis- 
taken estimate of his character and capacities. As for 
Bertie Cunningham, to whom Jacob did not address much 
of his conversation, he took note of the brightness of his 
opposite neighbor's eyes, and came to the uncharitable con- 
clusion that Stiles had been having a pretty stiff brandy 
and soda upstairs. 

However that might be, Jacob did not seem disposed to 
indulge in deep potations after the ladies had left the din- 
ing-room. He fidgeted about, and replied irrelevantly to 
the languid remarks which Bertie made between the whiffs 
of his cigarette, until the latter, perceiving his impatience, 
said, “ Well, if you won't take any more wine, I suppose 
we may as well make a move. You are coming to the 
drawing-room, aren't you?" 

Jacob nodded. “ I was invited to spend the evening," 
he answered, with a slight smile. 

A few minutes later he had seated himself beside Carry, 
and had engaged her in a discussion upon, the best way of 
taming vicious young horses, he himself being for gentle- 
ness and patience, while she was in favor of more vigorous 
methods of repression. He professed to be convinced by 
some of her arguments, and mixed a good deal of adroit 
flattery with his own observations: so that the dialogue 
was maintained with great spirit for a good quarter of an 
hour. This was all very well; but Miss Herbert ended by 
remembering that it was not in order to entertain her that 
Jacob had been dragged from his solitude, and, as he re- 
mained impervious to a few civil hints, sh# rose uncere- 
moniously and, crossing the room to the fire-place, in front 
of which Bertie was standing, said, “ Come and have a 
game of billiards. Then you will be able to smoke." 

“ All right," answered Bertie, who, for his part, had 


A BACHELOR'S BLUKBER. 367 

found some difficulty in keeping up a flow of small- talk 
with Hope. And so the two left the room together. 

Hope, who was sitting by the fire, did not move; and as 
soon as the door had closed, Jacob dropped into an arm- 
chair opposite hers. “ I thought, if I could show myself 
sufficiently attentive to Miss Herbert, I should drive her 
away,” he remarked, with a low laugh. “ How we can 
talk/' 

Hope looked a little surprised : she was not accustomed 
to hearing Jacob adopt that kind of tone. “ What is the 
matter with you to-night?” she asked, her curiosity get- 
ting the better of her manners. “ l)o you know that you 
are hardly recognizable?” 

Jacob laughed again. “ I am in high spirits, Mrs. Her- 
bert,” he answered; 4 ‘ that is all. You never saw me in 
high spirits before, and no wonder you don't recognize me. 
I hope I haven't been obtrusive or impertinent. The fact 
is, I have been trying all the evening to forget who and 
what I am. Have I succeeded too well?” 

“ You have succeeded in being very pleasant and amus- 
ing,'' replied Hope, “ and I am glad you are in huh 
spirits. But what has happened to make you so?” 

“ I wonder,” said Jacob, “ whether you have ever ex- 
perienced the delight of coming to the end of a thing. 
When I have finished a picture I am always glad. It may 
have been my chief occupation and my only pleasure for 
months; I may have enjoyed working at it, and learned to 
look upon it almost as a living thing and a faithful friend; 
yet when the last touch has been put to it I throw down my 
brushes and rejoice. I have done with it; it is off my 
mind, and I am free again. Hot really free, of course; 
because as soon as I have finished one picture I begin an- 
other, and have to decide upon the subject, too, which is 
always a painful process. Still, I rejoice. I suppose we 
are all under the impression that we have a certain amount 
of work to accomplish in the world, and that the more we 
get done the less there remains to do. I could understand 
that, at the end of all, an old man might lie down to die 
with a feeling of intense relief and gratitude. Though, to 
be sure, I don't remember ever hearing of such a case.” 

“ Life is sweet,” said Hope, not quite following him. 

“ To some people, no doubt; but we all ding .to it, 
whether it is sweet or not. My life, hitherto, has been 


368 


A bachelor's blunder. 


almost entirely bitter; and no one can be surprised that I 
should be in high spirits now that I have reached the last 
page of the last chapter of it." 

“ Of your life?" 

“ Well, of my past and present life." 

“ What are you going to do?" asked Hope, wonder- 
ingly. 

“ Oh, nothing very startling; only I am going to leave 
Farndon. Don't think me ungrateful, Mrs. Herbert, and 
don't imagine that I shall ever to my dying day forget all 
your kindness to me. But I can make my own living now, 
and I ought not to remain in this house either as a guest or 
as a pensioner. I have been thinking for a long time of 
breaking off with the old life and beginning a new one, 
and I want to travel about for a little before settling down 
in a home of my own. I spoke to you about it in London, 
you know. " 

“ You said in London that you were in no hurry," ob- 
served Hope, who was not quite pleased at Jacob's eager- 
ness to depart. Up to that moment he had always been her 
devoted slave, treating every wish of hers as law; but now, 
without any visible reason, lo and behold, her. slave was 
ostensibly declaring his independence! Such declarations 
are never agreeable to any woman, and the present one was 
not agreeable to Hope. “ Of course," she added, “ if you 
are so very anxious to start, I wouldn't for the world de- 
tain you; but I am sorry you should have changed your 
mind already." 

“I haven't changed my mind, Mrs. Herbert. I have 
only made it. What I told you, if you remember, was 
that I was uncertain whether I would go abroad at all. 
Now I have decided to go; and when one has decided to do 
anything, the sooner one does it the better." 

“ Perhaps so," answered Hope, a little coldly. “ And 
when do you start?" 

“ I must be off to-morrow morning. I telegraphed this 
afternoon to ask if there was a vacant berth on board the 
steamer, and it seems that there is. If I don't take it, I 
may have to wait some time." 

“ What steamer are you speaking of?" 

“ Oh, I forgot to say that I was going to America. I 
have always had a great wish to see the Western States and 
the Ptocky Mountains, and perhaps California. It was a 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


369 


choice between that and the picture-galleries of Europe, 
and, all things considered, I thought I would give the pre- 
cedence to Nature.” 

“ The Rocky Mountains!” exclaimed Hope. “ Then 
perhaps you will meet Dick.” 

Jacob smiled. “ That is possible, of course,” he an- 
swered; “ whether it is likely is another question. The 
Rocky Mountains, as you know, extend over the entire 
length of the North American continent. Besides, Mr. 
Herbert will be starting to return home by the time that I 
get out there, will he not?” 

“ Yes, perhaps; but I hardly think he will be able to 
leave the moment that he gets my letter; nor can I tell you 
exactly where he is. Latterly, I have been writing to him 
at the Post-Office, Virginia City, Montana.” 

Jacob nodded silently. Presently he resumed: “ I may 
find myself in Mr. Herbert's neighborhood or I may not. 
But, after what I told you the other day, you will under- 
stand that it can not be precisely an object with me to seek 
him out.” 

“You told me the other day that you had no affection 
for him,” answered Hope; “ but I don't think that was 
quite the truth. I think what you meant was that you 
were hurt and angry with him; and I don'fisay that you 
have no reason to be. But unless you had some affection 
for him you would not be angry, would you?” 

Jacob's brow clouded over. “ You are wrong,” he re- 
turned, almost roughly: “ I have no such feeling as you 
imagine — nothing of the kind. Just consider what he has 
done to earn my affection. It is so easy for a rich man to 
lay a pauper under an eternal obligation! A careless sort 
of good nature, which cost him nothing, made him adopt 
me when I was an orphan; he brought me up — not very 
judiciously, perhaps— like a gentleman, and I used to be 
found an amusing little fellow by him and his friends. 
Then I deceived and disappointed him, and at once he 
turned his back upon me. He had taken me out of my 
own class; he didn't think me worthy to be received into 
his. All my life I have been neither fish, flesh, nor good 
red herring;" and my life, as I was saying just now, has 
been full of bitterness. No! I have no affection for Mr. 
Herbert; and I will go further than that and add that I 
don't think he has deserved any affection from me. But 


370 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


we have already said all that there is to be said upon this 
subject. Can we not find something pleasanter to talk 
about on my last evening?” 

Hope did not respond immediately. In her heart of 
hearts she thought Jacob a little ungrateful— certainly to 
Dick, perhaps also to herself. But her displeasure did not 
hold out long against his resolution to enjoy himself for 
once, and for once to meet those about him upon a footing 
of equality. With a good deal of tact, he drew her 
thoughts away from the present and led her to speak of 
the past — of her life at Helston Abbey with her father, of 
her artistic aspirations, and of other topics with which 
neither Dick Herbert nor Bertie Cunningham was in any 
way connected. At first the burden of keeping up the con- 
versation rested upon his shoulders; but insensibly he 
shifted it to those of his companion, and, leaning back in 
his chair, with one hand shading his eyes, watched her in- 
tently and silently, while she chatted on about this and 
that. When the engaged couple returned from the billiard- 
room, Hope was astonished— and said so — to see that it 
was already past eleven o’clock. 

“ I am glad,” observed Jacob, with a smile, “ that I 
have not been a bore.” And then, turning to Carry, “ I 
shall not be in danger of boring anybody at Farndon again 
for some time to come. I have just been telling Mrs. 
Herbert that I start for America to-morrow.” 

“ Be ally?” said Carry, indifferently. Then, with a 
slight accession of interest, “ To wliat part of America do 
you propose to go?” 

“ To the extreme West — the Yellowstone Park and that 
region, perhaps.” 

Carry looked rather hard at him. This sudden resolu- 
tion to proceed to the remote quarter of the globe in which 
her brother was sojourning struck her as an odd coinci- 
dence — if it was a coincidence. “ Oh, to that region. And 
why to that region in particular?” she asked; which, as it 
happened, was just what Jacob wanted her to ask. 

“An artist’s whim,” he answered, shrugging his 
shoulders. “ I am told that the scenery of the Rocky 
Mountains is disappointing from an artistic point of view, 
owing to the gigantic scale of everything, which shuts out 
all effects of contrast, and the clearness of the atmosphere, 
which makes distant outlines too distinct; and indeed one 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


371 


doesn't hear of any Rocky Mountain jfictures, except Bier- 
stadt's. However, I can but try. " 

l '\ thought landscape was not your line, " said Carry, 
still vaguely suspicious. 

“ It has not been hitherto; but I am going to make a 
change — in that and in other things. I have worked hard 
in one groove for a good many years, and I think I am 
fairly entitled to a change. I ought to be packing up my 
possessions now. Good-night, Miss Herbert, and good-bye, 
if I don't see you again." 

He shook hands with her and with Cunningham, but 
when he approached Hope, with a similar intention, she 
said, “No; I must see you before you start in the morn- 
ing. Perhaps I may intrust you with some message for 
Dick in case you meet him." 

“ I shall be delighted to execute any commission, Mrs. 
Herbert," answered Jacob; “ but you had better not com- 
mit anything of importance to me: because, as I told you 
j ust now, the chances are very much against my meeting 
him.'* And thereupon he withdrew. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

IN VIRGINIA CITY. 

It is quite possible that Virginia City, which made an 
ambitious start in the world as capital of the Territory of 
Montana, but has since lost that jjroud distinction, might 
eventually have grown into a city, if . events had proved 
favorable to its development; that is to say, if the mineral 
district in the midst of which it is situated had turned out 
as rich as it once promised. to be. But mines (as many 
people on both sides of the Atlantic know to their sorrow) 
have a deplorable habit of leaving promises unfulfilled; and 
so, when the weary traveler makes his way into Virginia 
City, he is apt to think that the persons who bestowed so 
high-sounding a title upon a mere handful of small habita- 
tions were taking time by the forelock in some unjustifiable 
manner. Such, at any rate, was the opinion of two 
bearded, weather-beaten, and dilapidated sportsmen who 
arrived there one afternoon in the month of April. They 
were standing disconsolately at the window of the inn where 
they had taken up their quarters, and were watching the 


372 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


first flakes of the coming snow-storm, which a furious wind 
was driving before it. 

“ Did you ever in all your born days see such a place ?" 
muttered one of them. 

“Most certainly I never did,” replied his companion, 
with conviction; ■- and I humbly hope that I may never 
see such another. Indeed, if you come to that, I am quite 
sure that I never shall; because I shall not be found in this 
country again. I don't want to grumble; I believe I may 
claim to have abstained from grumbling pretty creditably 
for the last two months: but I will go so far as to state my 
deliberate opinion that this is an overrated country. The 
climate is beastly — ■" 

• “No, not the climate,” interrupted the first speaker; 
“ I don't complain of that.'' 

“I do, then; I complain of it bitterly; and I stick to 
what I have said. A climate in which you are liable to be 
buried in snow in the month of April is a beastly climate. 
But of course one could put up with that, if there were 
compensations. What I want to know is, where are the 
compensations? Where are the bighorn? Where are the 
moose, and the elk, and the antelope? Answer me that, 
Herbert, if you can. ” 

“ My dear fellow, if I could,'' answered Dick, with a 
placidity which was only superficial, “ I should not be con- 
templating this caricature of a city at the present moment. 
But I know where the whisky is; and I'm going to drink 
it. It seems the only thing to be done.'' 

Francis sighed heavily. “ What I should consider a 
piece of real good luck,” he remarked, “ would be if either 
you or I were to receive a letter necessitating our immedi- 
ate return to England. But of course nothing of the kind 
will occur. It is only when one is having a good time that 
one is certain to be summoned away at a moment’s notice; 
and we have emphatically not been having a good time of 
it lately. Moreover, I don't believe there's a good time 
coming: do you?'' 

Dick shook his head. “ Not in these parts, I'm afraid; 
but we may do better by moving south a bit. What a time 
that fellow is bringing the letters!” 

The true sportsman, it is said, always accepts bad luck 
philosophically; but presumably there are limits to the en- 
durance even of the true sportsman. Our two friends, who 


A bachelor's blunder. 


373 


could stand discomfort and disappointment better than 
most men, had reached the end of their stock of patience a 
few days before, and had determined to make for the com- 
parative civilization of Virginia City. They had been un- 
fortunate all the winter through, killing very little game 
and encountering unusually severe weather. What had 
secretly vexed them both was their knowledge that they 
might have met with much greater success if they had been 
willing to cut themselves off from communication with the 
outer world for a few months; but Dick had not been able 
to make up his mind to this sacrifice, and, although his 
companion had hitherto been too generous to remind him 
of the fact, he was painfully aware that their failure was 
his fault. 

“ After all," he said, apologetically, “ we have sent 
home a fairish number of heads and skins." 

“ Quite so; but when did we send the last? Don't you 
think it is getting very nearly time to take home our own 
heads and skins? I only throw it out as a suggestion, you 
know: I said I would see you through, and I will. But 
haven't we — ahem! — attained our object by this time?" 

Dick stretched out his long legs and contemplated the 
heavy boots which adorned them. “ I don't know," he 
said, after a pause. 

The two men had been together, morning, noon, and 
night, for three quarters of a year, but, although they were 
such old friends — perhaps because they were such old friends 
— not a word had passed between them as to the true cause 
of their absence from England. Francis relapsed into 
silence; and presently an agreeable diversion was created by 
the entrance of Dick's servant, with his arms full of news- 
papers and letters, which he cast in a heap upon the table. 

Dick jumped up with some alacrity and drew toward him 
his share in the spoil, singling out one letter from the rest. 
Which he looked at for a moment and then laid aside upon 
the mantel-shelf, to be perused when the others should have 
been run through. Francis, watching him out of the cor- 
ner of his eye, noticed this performance and smiled slightly 
to himself. He was quite accustomed to it, having seen it 
take place many times before — as often, indeed, as the post 
came in. His own correspondence, which did not happen 
to be interesting, was soon disposed of, and he fell back 
upon the newspapers, while Dick; read and reread the let- 


374 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


ter which he had reserved for the last, not raising his eyes 
from it until dinner was brought in. During that repast 
he was more than usually taciturn, and it was only after 
the bear and antelope meat had been done full justice to 
and pipes had been lighted that he said, “ Well, Francis, 
you’ve got your wish. It’s a case of making tracks for 
home before long, I believe.” 

“ Heaven be praised!” exclaimed Francis, piously. 
“ May I be permitted to inquire what’s up?” 

“ Well, my sister Carry is going to be married; and it 
seems to be considered that I ought to be present at the 
ceremony.” 

“Iam delighted to hear it. I congratulate Miss Her- 
bert; I congratulate myself; I congratulate everybody all 
round. Pass me the whisky, and we’ll drink everybody’s 
health, except the health of the people who told us that 
bighorn abounded in the neighborhood of Fort Ellis. By 
the way, who is the happy man?” 

“ Cunningham,” answered Dick, briefly. 

“ O-h-h!” ejaculated Francis, setting down his glass, 
while he involuntarily pursed up his lips, as if about to 
whistle. 

“ You seem surprised,” observed Dick. 

“ Eh? Surprised? Oh, dear, no! not in the least,” re- 
turned Francis, hastily. “I always expected it to be a 
match. Didn’t your” 

“Yes; I certainly did,” said Dick. “ I am not sur- 
prised; but I think you are, and I think I know why you 
are. Look here, Francis, I’ve a great mind to make a 
clean breast of it, and — er — well, ask you for your advice. 
Of course I don’t mean to say that I shall take your advice. 
I’ve been upon the point of speaking to you half a hundred 
times before; but I am such a confoundedly reticent beg- 
gar, and I do so hate talking about my private affairs! As 
a general thing, every man is the best judge of his own 
business; only I suppose everybody feels the need of con- 
sulting a friend now and then. ” 

Francis nodded, knowing his man, and being aware that 
protestations of friendship on his part would be both super- 
fluous and unwelcome. 

“ But first of all,” Dick went on, “ should you say that 
I was bound to be in England for Carry’s wedding? I 


A bachelor's blunder. 


375 


mean, if my presence were undesirable on other grounds, 
would that be a good enough reason for my returning?" 

“ I should say that you were most undoubtedly bound to 
be there : also that your presence would be desirable upon 
other grounds," replied Francis, succinctly. 

44 H'm! Well, I am inclined to agree with you — at least, 
as to my being at the wedding. I could always go away 
again afterward if — " 

44 If you wanted to go?" 

“ Yes, or if others wanted me to go. You disapproved 
of my marriage from the first, didn't you, Francis?" 

44 Disapproved isn't exactly the word to use: I had no 
business to disapprove. I was afraid it was rather a — what 
shall I say? — rather a hazardous experiment." 

44 I know. You were perfectly right, it was a hazardous 
experiment, and I need hardly tell you that it has turned 
out a failure. You must have seen that for yourself?" 

Francis admitted that he had conjectured as much. 

44 1 suppose it was bound to be a failure," Dick went on, 
44 but she has more right to complain than I have, because 
I am sorry to say that I wasn’t quite candid with her at 
starting. Generally, as you may have noticed, I am 
rather particularly candid. All my life I have gone 
in for telling the literal truth, and may be I have prided 
myself a little upon sticking to that plan. Anyhow, I 
never tried another until I proposed to Hope Lefroy. I 
don't think you ever saw her until after our engagement; 
but most likely you know what her circumstances were 
when her father died." 

Francis signified assent. 44 It was a very hard case," he 
remarked. 

44 Terrible; I don't know that I ever heard of a worse. 
Brought up with every imaginable luxury, you know, and 
taught to believe that she was a great heiress, and then sud- 
denly thrown upon the world, with no more money of her 
own than would pay for her clothes. I must say for Lefroy 
that he did his best to be kind to her: he couldn't well do 
more than offer her a home. But she was a great deal too 
proud to live upon charity, and nothing would satisfy her 
but that she should become a professional artist and sup- 
port herself. Now, it was as certain as anything could be 
that she would fail at that, and it seemed to me tolerably 
certain, too, that in the course of a year or so she would be 


376 


A bachelor's blunder. 


driven into marrying one of the rich men whom Lady Jane 
would take care to place at her disposal, and who might 
very likely be a ruffian." 

44 And so, to save her from a worse fate, you proposed to 
her yourself." 

44 And so I proposed to her; yes. We were very good 
friends, and I put it to her whether we might not live 
together permanently as good friends. I said we wouldn't 
talk about love or anything of that sort, but that in my 
opinion two people could be very happy as husband and 
wife without it. Each of us would allow the other plenty 
of liberty; we shouldn't be very much together; and, as we 
should have a clear mutual understanding at the outset,, 
there ought not to be much danger of our quarreling." 

44 Whatever objections that declaration may have been 
open to, it doesn't seem to me that lack of candor was one 
of them," remarked Francis. 

4 4 That is just where you make a mistake. If I had been 
candid, I should have told her that I adored her. I fell in 
love with her the very first time that we met; I tried to get 
over it, but I couldn't: and, what is more, I never shall get 
over it as long as I live. . Now you may laugh, if you 
like." 

44 1 don't see anything to laugh at," said Francis. 44 The 
only thing that I can't understand is why in the w T orld you 
didn't tell her that you adored her." 

44 1 should have thought a clever fellow like you might 
have guessed. It wasn't to be supposed that she could be 
in love with me, a man of nearly twice her age, with a fig- 
ure-head on his shoulders which never was much to look at 
and which is considerably the worse for wear now. " 

44 W T hat rubbish! — as though that had anything to do 
with it!" 

44 No, it isn’t rubbish; and when you fall in love with a 
girl of nineteen you will know that it isn't. My dear Fran- 
cis, if such a thing were to happen to you to-morrow, I can 
assure you that — little as you may suppose it — you would 
immediately begin to study your face in the glass, and you 
would be simply horrified at your own reflection. You 
don't mind my saying so, do you?" 

44 Not being in love at present, I don't. Well, what 
reply did you get to those well-chosen words of yours?" 

I)ick sighed. 44 There was a good deal of doubt, and a 


A bachelor's blunder. 


377 


good deal of delay/' he answered, 44 bat in the end she ac- 
cepted me. At first she was inclined to suspect that I had 
proposed to her out of pity, and, as I couldn't tell her the 
real state of the case (because if I had she would undoubt- 
edly have rejected me), I had trouble enough to invent 
plausible motives. There's no end to the difficulties that a 
man finds himself in when once he has departed from the 
truth. However, we were married, and for the first month 
or more everything seemed to be going as smoothly as pos- 
sible. The notion that I had taken into my head — I dare 
say it was an absurd one — was that she might come to love 
me in time; that is, if I didn't bore her, and if I tried my 
best to make her happy, you understand. One has heard 
of such things happening in the case of women. Tor a 
man to marry without being in love, and to fall in love 
with his wife afterward, would be impossible, as we know: 
the very idea is preposterous. But there is a general im- 
pression that women are differently constituted. Well, to 
cut a long story short, my plan didn't work. Having thar, 
secret from her put me rather at a disadvantage, I fancy. 
1 don't think I can have bored her personally, for I kept 
myself in the background as much as possible, and left her 
alone whenever I could; but I am afraid she found life at 
Farndon rather a bore. " 

“ In spite of your delicacy?" said Francis, who could 
not help laughing a little at this. 44 1 beg your pardon, 
Herbert, but yours was the funniest way of making love 
that I ever heard of. " 

4 4 Most likely it wasn't a very good way," agreed Hick, 
humbly; 44 but it doesn't much signify whether it was good 
or bad, because in due course of time she — Upon my 
word, I don't quite like saying this even to you, Francis." 

44 You need not say it unless you like, old man," an- 
swered Francis, quietly: 44 1 know what you mean. In due 
course of time she met somebody who — well, who didn't 
recommend himself "to her notice by remaining in the 
background." 

44 Yes — Cunningham. After all, it's best to call things 
and people by their names." 

44 1 won't deny," said Francis, 44 that I thought him 
dangerous at one time: everybody who saw them together 
thought so. But nothing is more common than for every- 
body to be mistaken; and before we left England I had 


378 


a bacetelor’s blunder. 


begun to suspect there was a mistake in that instance. At 
all events, Cunningham’s engagement to your sister seems 
to prove that there was. ” 

“No, not exactly: Cunningham is a very good fellow in 
his way, but fidelity isn’t his strong point, and he has been 
practically engaged to Carry in anofi-and-on sort of fashion 
for a long time. That neither prevented him from falling 
in love with my wife, nor from declaring his love to her. ” 

44 You can’t be sure that he declared it.” 

44 Yes, I am; because she told me that he had. ” 

44 The deuce she did!” ejaculated Francis. 44 And after 
that you call Cunningham a good fellow!” 

44 I said ‘ in his way:’ it’s a common enough way in these 
days, by all accounts. He is the kind of man who couldn’t 
be in love with my wife, or anybody’s wife, without letting 
her know of it. ” 

44 And she actually told you that he had done so!” 

“ Does that astonish you? It didn’t astonish me. Hope 
is as honorable as you or I; and, though. I don’t know that 
she was absolutely bound to tell me what had happened, I 
think she would have been sailing rather near the wind if 
she had concealed it. At any rate, she did tell me; and I 
could see, by the state of agitation that she was in, that 
she cared for the man.” 

44 Having convinced yourself of which, you thought it 
sensible and appropriate to betake yourself to the other side 
of the Atlantic!” exclaimed Francis, lifting up his hands. 

Dick looked a little displeased. 44 I thought it sensible 
that, after such a discovery, we should remain apart for a 
time,” he answered, gravely; 44 and I still think so. You 
don’t, I hope, mean to imply that I risked anything by 
turning my back upon England? What had happened was 
a misfortune for my wife and for me; but it was no more 
her fault than mine, and I can answer for it that if she has 
spoken to Cunningham since that day it has not been will- 
ingly. ” Francis held his peace, being in fact unable to 
make the response which his friend evidently expected of 
him; but when Dick added, 4 4 Well, now that you know all 
about it, tell me honestly what you think I had better do,’ ’ 
he answered — 

44 That is not a question which need puzzle anybody. 
Hitherto you seem to have consistently done what you 
ought not to have done, and left undone what you ought to 


A bachelor's blunder. 


379 


have done. Your only course now is to go home as quickly 
as you can, and begin all over again. " 

Dick shook his head. “ It is too soon for that, I am 
afraid." 

“ A great deal more likely to be too late!" thought the 
other; but he said, aloud, “ I think you were in rather a 
hurry to jump to conclusions about Mrs. Herbert and Cun- 
ningham. What her feelings toward you may be I don't 
pretend to know: by your own account, you made it im- 
possible for her to show them. But I can say, from my 
own observation, that she was very much distressed at your 
leaving her. " 

“ That is true," observed Dick, stroking his chin medi- 
tatively; 44 but I shouldn't be disposed to build too much 
upon that. It was only natural that just at first she should 
dislike the idea of being left alone. There was something 
in the letter that I had from her just now which I was 
rather glad to see," he added, presently; “ though proba- 
bly it means nothing. You see, she says that Carry wants 
me to go home for the wedding, and then she has written 
* and so do I,' and has scratched the words out afterward." 

He handed the open sheet to Francis, who glanced at it 
with an amused smile, and remarked, 4 4 The words aren't 
so very much scratched out, are they?" 

“ Do you think she meant me to read them, then?" 
asked Dick, eagerly. 

“ I think she must have been aware that you couldn't 
possibly help reading them. Give me a telegraph-form, 
and I'll secure our passage for Europe: this shoot is at an 
end. " 

Dick knocked the ashes out of his pipe, rose from his chair, 
and strode up and do wn the room three or four times. “ No," 
he said, decisively, at last: “ I had better not make my 
appearance until just before the wedding. I doubt whether 
there is any chance for me; but, if there is, it will be im- 
proved by having the house to ourselves. Now that Carry 
is going to leave us, I don't mind telling you that she 
hasn't been altogether an addition to our comfort. She 
means well; but — not to mince matters — she is most con- 
foundedly in the way. Added to which, she naturally looks 
upon me as being beyond the age for making love, and— 
and — in shorty I dare say you can understand." 


380 


A BACHELOR’S BLUNDER, 


44 Do you mean that you are shy of your own sister?” 
asked Francis, laughing. 

44 That is precisely what I do mean. So, if you think 
you can stand a few more weeks of camping out, we’ll be 
off to Denver to-morrow, and then make for Estes Park. If 
we don’t get as many black-tail deer as we can shoot there. 
I’ll give you leave to say anything you like about the 
nakedness of the land.” 

Francis, after some demur, acquiesced in this arrange- 
ment, and the same evening Dick dispatched a lengthy 
telegram to Hope, informing her of his proposed change of 
quarters, and promising to be in England early in the 
month of J une. 

As events proved, it was an unfortunate decision; bat, 
the events in question not being of those which cast their 
shadows before them, nobody was to blame for it. 


CHAPTER XLIY. 

A LONG JOURNEY. 

44 Do you know,” asked Jacob Stiles, looking dreamily 
about him, 44 when I last breakfasted in this room?” 

44 No,” answered Hope, who was the only other occu- 
pant of the dining-room at Farndon. 44 Was it a long time 
ago?” 

44 It was on the morning of — the catastrophe of. which I 
told you. From that day I began to live apart. And now 
here I am once more — only for once, though — and you have 
got up early to pour out my coffee for me. You have 
been very kind to me, Mrs. Herbert — sometimes I wonder 
why. But I suppose you are kind to everybody.” 

44 Not to people whom I dislike,” answered Hope, smil- 
ing. 44 If you think it a wonderful piece of kindness on my 
part to have come down-stairs half an hour before my usual 
time, you might show your appreciation of it by doing a 
little justice to your breakfast. You have eaten nothing.” 

44 I am not hungry,” answered Jacob. And then, with 
a recurrence of the ' hesitating manner which he had con- 
trived so completely to throw off on the preceding evening, 
44 Mrs. Herbert, would it be a great liberty if I asked you 
to give me one of your photographs? I wanted to ask you 
last night, but I hadn’t the courage. Only afterward I 


A BACHELOR^ BLUNDER. 


381 


sail] to myself that perhaps you would not mind, because 
there are some requests which are impertinent coming 
from equals, but not from inferiors. ” 

“ If this were not your last morning / 9 answered Hope, 
“I should be very much inclined to refuse you for put- 
ting your request in such a disagreeable way. As it is, I 
will only make one small request on my own score, which 
is that when you come back you will give up calling me your 
superior. As soon as I can paint pictures like yours we will 
begin to talk about being equals; but not before. Now I 
will go and get you the photograph. ” 

She brought it presently, and, with a few murmured 
words of thanks, he slipped it into his breast-pocket. Im- 
mediately afterward the butler came in to announce that 
the dog-cart was waiting. It was to Hope that he im- 
parted this information: it would have been beneath his 
dignity to address himself to Jacob Stiles. 

“ I must go ,” said Jacob, glancing at his watch. “You 
said last night that you might perhaps have some commis- 
sion for me to execute.” 

“ Yes/* answered Hope; “but, on second thoughts, I 
will not trouble you. I have nothing particular to say, 
and if, by any chance, you should come across Dick, you 
will be able to tell him all about me — all that he cares to 
hear. I hope you will have a very pleasant trip, and that 
the change will do you a great deal of good.” 

“ Perhaps it will,” answered Jacob. “ Now good-bye, 
Mrs. Herbert. There is a great deal that I should like to 
say to you; but I should not say it well, aud I have tried 
already to tell you how grateful I am to you, and — and — 
how much I wish for your happiness. May I say that I 
think the future will bring you more happiness than the 
past has done?” 

Hope took the hand that he extended to her and returned 
its slight pressure. !$he thought that she understood him 
(though she did not), and accepted his words as a good 
omen. When one is on the lookout for omens, anything 
will serve. Jacob held her hand for an instant, and, with- 
out another word, left the room. He hurried across the 
hall, clambered into the dog-cart, gathering up the reins, 
and drove at a brisk pace down the avenue. “ Over — and 
well over!” was what he was thinking to himself. No one 
would have supposed, to look at him, that the brief leave- 


382 a bachelor’s blunder. 

taking which he had just gone through had kept him 
awake all night, and that more than once during the hours 
of darkness he had doubted whether he would have the for- 
titude to face it. When he reached the turn in the drive he 
pulled up abruptly and looked back at the house. 

“Forgotten anything?” asked the groom who was sit- 
ting beside him. 

“No; I have forgotten nothing yet,” he answered, and 
with a shake of the reins, drove on. 

The groom laughed at this absurd reply. “ One would 
think you was going to lose your things further on,” said 
he. “ Alius thought you was a pretty good ’and at lookin’ 
arter yerself, too.” 

Like his fellow-servants, he seldom let slip an opportu- 
nity of being impertinent to Jacob, whose habit it was to 
leave impertinences unnoticed. 

“ James,” said the latter, presently, “ it is as likely as 
not that you will never see me at Farndon again.” 

“ What! have you made yer fortun’, then?” asked the 
man, jocosely. 

“Yes, I have made* my fortune; and Fariidon has not 
been such a pleasant home to me that I should wish to re- 
turn. You have all hated and despised me, haven’t you?” 

“ Well, I dunno about that.” 

“ Oh, yes, you do know. After all, it was natural 
enough, I suppose. You are like a flock of sheep, all of 
you. You take your cue from the stud-groom; the foot- 
men take their one from the butler; the butler and the 
stud-groom take theirs from their master. Still, I wish, 
after I am gone, you would just ask yourself what I have 
done to you to be hated and despised.” 

“ I don’t take my cue from nobody,” returned James, 
remembering that he was a free-born Briton f “ nor yet I 
don’t hate no man without he has give me good cause. But 
suppose you was to try workin’ of it round t’other way and 
arst yerself what you done to make a man like yer?” 

“ That is a fair enough retort. Well, it is all over now, 
and it doesn ’t much signify. I suppose, James, you will 
admit that I can ride?” 

“Finest ’orseman I ever see in my life,” answered 
James, with the air of one determined to give the devil his 
due. 

“ Bemember me by that, then; and remember that you 


A bachelor's blunder. 3 83 

never knew me lose my temper with a horse. I have seen 
you bullying your horses more than once, James; and if it 
had been of the slightest use to speak to you about it, I 
should have spoken long ago. Depend upon it, no good 
was ever done in this world by bullying. I know there are 
horses and boys who can stand a lot of floggingand be none 
the worse for it, though, of course, there are many who 
can't; but no horse should be thrashed without some reason 
that he can understand. He requires fair treatment, j ust 
as a man does, and unless he gets it he will turn nasty, just 
as a man will. When you have spoiled a horse's temper, 
you call him an incurably vicious brute; and when the same 
thing has been done to a man, he is called — what do you 
call me in the stables, James?" 

4 4 Never heerd you called out of yer proper name, as I 
can remember," answered the man, in a somewhat surly 
voice, for he did not relish being lectured by Jacob Stiles. 

“ Have you not? But I am tolerably certain that no one 
about the place has a good word for me." 

To this assertion, which had an interrogative ring, the 
stolid James vouchsafed neither assent nor contradiction. 
Jacob sighed, and then laughed. 

“ Here we are at the station," he said, presently. 
“ Good-bye, James; put that in your pocket, and bear in 
mind what I have said to you. It is true, and you may find 
it useful some day or other." 

The eyes of James became round with amazement, and 
his tongue was paralyzed; for it was nothing less than a 
five-pound note that Jacob had thrust into his hand. A 
donation so splendid, coming from such a quarter, made it 
impossible for him to express his feelings in words until he 
had handed the luggage out to the porter and had turned 
his horse's head round/ Then he slapped his leg with Ins 
open hand, and ejaculated, aloud, “I'm dashed if that 
feller ain't one o' the'right sort arter all!" 

But the irony of the above encomium was lost to Jacob, 
who by that time had seated himself in an empty first-class 
carriage and had entered upon a long soliloquy which, with 
occasional breaks, lasted him all the way to Liverpoo 1 

“ Five pounds to a grooniil There's a so^ 
being generous, even when gener^’^ 
of giving away what can 


884 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


one’s self any more. I wonder whether I should have been 
a great philanthropist if I had been a rich man: it isn’t 
unlikely. I wonder what sort of person my father was. 
He hanged himself in a garret; and in about a fortnight’s 
time from now — Heavens! how slowly this train moves! 
and they call it an express. And then the voyage! Ten 
mortal days and nights — how shall I live through such an 
eternity? 

4 4 1 think I have played my part well; they will all rec- 
ollect that I set out in the best of spirits, and that I 
seemed to be looking forward to enjoying myself. When 
the news reaches her, she will not suspect that I have com- 
mitted a crime for her sake. A chance encounter, a quar- 
rel, probably a blow given and returned; it will be a nine 
days’ wonder, and then it will be forgotten. The news- 
papers will be able to explain it ail. 4 The morbid and 
vindictive character of the criminal was well known to those 
who were brought into contact with him. That he cher- 
ished a secret grudge against his benefactor and victim 
seems to, have been almost a matter of notoriety; and it is 
by no means improbable that constant brooding over his 
imaginary wrongs may have unhinged his mind. Indeed, 
the absence of sufficient motive seems to point to the con- 
clusion that the unfortunate gentleman whose death we 
have to record fell by the hand of a madman. ’ Am I 
mad? It is possible; but I Can detect no symptoms of in- 
sanity in myself. I know very well what my purpose is, 
and what the consequences will be. I could abandon it 
now, if I chose; I am perfectly master of my own actions. 
And yet is it really I who am going to do this horrible 
thing? 

4 4 What nonsense! There is nothing horrible in what I 
am going to do; I am not sure that there is anything wrong 
in it. What are right and wrong? Conventional terms, 
which mean very little more than expedient and inexpedient. 
A bad man is a man who makes himself obnoxious to his 
fellow-creatures. When he becomes too obnoxious to be 
tolerated any longer, the law stamps him out in one way or 
another. In this instance, I, a private individual, am go- 
^ take the functions of the law upon me, for once. It 
that private individuals should behave in 
'V moral guilt of the thing— 

’ serves to die. If he were al- 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


,385 


lowed to go on living, lie would only live for himself and 
make others unhappy; as far as I know what right is, I 
shall do right in killing him. Besides, I shall pay for his 
life with my own; so that we shall be quits. And, when 
all is said, what is the life of one man? Thousands and 
thousands are killed for the sake of adding a few square 
miles of territory to this or that country, and the men who 
order the slaughter, and the men who are sent to carry it 
out, are smothered in ribbons and rewards. The whole 
question of morals is a question of inherited ideas and tra- 
ditions. The morality of the Old Testament, for example, 
would soon bring anybody who practiced it in our days to 
the gallows. Samuel hadn’t the slightest compunction 
about killing his enemies in cold blood; nor had Elijah: and 
as for David, he was a murderer of a very much baser type 
than I shall be. 

“ No; it won’t do. I can’t deceive myself. A crime it 
is; and calling it by another name won’t alter its nature. 
But, right or wrong, crime or no crime, I will do it for her 
sake. Only I wish I had not such an interminable time to 
wait.” 

It was with reflections such as these, repeated again and 
again in different language, that Jacob’s weary brain was 
occupied throughout his journey; but when he reached 
Liverpool, and when, shortly afterward, he stood on the 
deck of the huge steamer that was to take him to New 
York, his mood suddenly changed. The prospect of the 
voyage came to him as a kind of respite: he determined 
that for the next ten days he would exist only in the pres- 
ent, putting away from him all thoughts of past and future 
alike; and, not a little to his own surprise, he found that 
he was able to do this without difficulty. 

Those whose duties require them to keep up appearances 
and exhibit an unruffled countenance to the world what- 
ever may be their private griefs or anxieties (and there are 
many such persons in all classes) are aware how much sim- 
pler a matter than might be supposed it is to lead a double 
life. Outward show of emotion is banished because it must 
be banished, and soon the faculty is acquired of laying 
aside the emotion itself, with the show of it, to be resumed 
at leisure. It is true that social intercourse is essential to 
the exercise of the above faculty; and it may have been be- 
cause he was sensible of this that Jacob, in flagrant contra- 
13 


386 A bachelor's blunder. 

diction with his nature and habits, laid himself out to be 
agreeable to his fellow-passengers. 

Before the ship had left the Mersey he had entered into 
conversation with several of these; to most if not to all of 
them he was already known as a talented artist, and his 
advances were so cordially responded to that by the middle 
of the next day he found himself quite a popular personage. 
The sensation was a strange one to him, and he enjoyed it. 
Throughout the voyage, which chanced to be exceptionally 
calm, maintained his novel character as a pleasant, com- 
panionable fellow, and contrived to merge his identity in 
his part as thoroughly as any actor who ever trod the 
boards. During the day he took part in all those varied 
devices for killing time which people are wont to employ 
on shipboard and to call amusements for want of a better 
name; when he turned in at night he fell immediately into 
a heavy, dreamless sleep which lasted until morning. In- 
deed, it may be said that he himself was asleep the whole 
time, or, rather, that he was as nearly as can be realizing 
the wish which most of us have felt — to be for a short period 
somebody else, to experience somebody else ’s' sensations 
and compare them with our own. 

The real Jacob woke up one morning off Sandy Hook — 
woke with a shudder, but with no faltering in his purpose 
nor any misgiving as to his power to carry it out. Among 
the acquaintances that he had made on board was that of 
an American who had recently visited the Yellowstone re- 
gion, and to whom he had imparted his intention of pro- 
ceeding thither in search of landscape studies. This gen- 
tleman, while warning him that he was making the trip 
far too early in the year, gave him information as to the 
best and quickest means of reaching his goal, and, on being 
given to understand that the artist had only a very limited 
space of time at his disposal, good-naturedly accompanied 
him to the train, gave him some hints for his future guid- 
ance, and saw him fairly off. 

“ Now, Mr. Stiles,” he said, at parting, “ you will have 
to immortalize our National Park. I shall expect to hear 
of you again in connection with this trip, sir. ” To which 
Jacob replied, quietly, “ I think I may promise that you 
will. ” 

But what a journey it was! Three interminable days and 
nights of it — days that seemed like weeks, nights of fever- 


387 


A BACHELOR S BLUNDER. 

ish, sleepless impatience, during which the wretched man 
feared more than once that his brain was giving way. The 
revolver which be had bought before leaving England hung 
at his belt; his fingers stole down to it again and again. 
Suicide, now that the crisis was so near at hand, seemed to 
be far easier than murder, and a voice kept whispering to 
him, “ Die, and have done with it! What difference will 
any one’s happiness or unhappiness make to you when you 
are annihilated?” But he thrust the temptation away from 
him with a horror infinitely greater than any that the 
thought of his crime had aroused in him. Indeed, it was 
the. persistency of it that made him think he must be losing 
his senses. “ Whatever I may be, let me not be a coward !” 
he cried to himself, in an inarticulate agony which was al- 
most a prayer. 

The scenery through which he passed did not interest 
him in the least. Erom New York to Chicago by the Erie 
Railway, and thence to St. Paul and Bozeman by the 
Northern Pacific line, had been the route marked out for 
him by his American friend. He noted the various stop- 
ping-places and checked them off mentally as so many links 
removed from the chain, but, scarcely troubled himself to 
raise his heavy eyes and glance out of the window at city or 
country. When a man’s feet are upon the steps of the 
scaffold, it matters little enough to him what kind of land- 
scape may be surveyed from that eminence. At Bozeman 
Jacob quitted the train and reached Virginia City by stage, 
after a long and fatiguing drive over a very indifferent 
road, only to find that the party of which he was in quest 
had left some days before. The news gave him a moment- 
ary shock of intense disappointment, followed by a sensa- 
tion of relief almost as intense. If Herbert’s departure 
meant that he had started for England immediately after 
receiving his wife’s letter, then Jacob’s journey had been 
undertaken in vain. It was not at all likely that he would 
be able to overtake his victim on that side of the Atlantic, 
and to follow him to England and shoot him there would 
be impossible. The set purpose and premeditation of such 
an act would be too evident, and would expose Hope to the 
feeling of remorse from which he was of all things most 
anxious to shield her. So that for a minute or two it al- 
most seemed to him as if Providence or Fate had interposed 
to save Dick’s life. But the first answers that he received 


388 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


to Inis questions sufficed to dispel that illusion, as well as to 
harden his heart against Herbert, who, it appeared, had no 
intention of giving up his sport to suit anybody's conven- 
ience. When Jacob heard that the two Englishmen; with 
their retinue, had moved to Estes Park, in the neighbor- 
hood of Denver, he proposed to start in pursuit forthwith, 
and was only induced to take a night's rest when it was 
pointed out to him that he could by no possibility leave his 
present quarters until the following day. 

It is needless to accompany him through the tedious and 
devious ways which brought him at length to the capital of 
Colorado. He had not doubted but that on his arrival there 
he would either fall in with Dick's party or learn whither 
it had proceeded; but it so chanced that the hotel which he 
selected was not the one at which his countrymen had put 
up, and the hotel clerk denied all knowledge of “ the out- 
fit " about* which he inquired. Wandering down one of the 
broad streets in considerable perplexity — for he neither 
knew how to reach Estes Park nor felt sure that the infor- 
mation given him at Virginia City had been accurate— he 
heard his name called* -out in an unmistakably English 
voice, and, wheeling round, found himself face to face with 
Pilmer, an old servant of Mr. Herbert's, and his attendant 
in many previous shooting-expeditions to distant lands. 
This man — either owing to his firm conviction that what- 
ever his master did was right or because his own positiou 
was sufficiently secure to place him above all jealousy of 
upstarts — had always shown a more friendly disposition to- 
ward Jacob than the other servants at Farndon. 

“ What, Mr. Stiles!" exclaimed he. “ Who would have 
thought of meeting you in this outlandish place? Nothing- 
wrong at home, I hope?" 

“ Nothing at all," answered Jacob. “ I have come out 
here to try and do some sketching in the mountains, and I 
was rather in hopes that I might chance upon you all and 
get you to tell me where the best bits of scenery are. ' ' 

“Lord bless your soul!" laughed Filmer, “ yon can't, 
walk out here, with your sketch-book under your arm, as 
if you was in the Highlands of Scotland; nor yet you can’t 
camp out all by yourself. I should say the best thing you 
could do would be to buy yourself a horse and come along 
with me to our camp. The governor and Mr. Francis 
went up there three days ago, and I’m to follow to-mor- 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


389 


row with some mule-loads of baggage. I can find you a 
broncho easy enough. I don’t say he won’t be a buck- 
jumper; but that’s all one to you.”" 

After a moment of hesitation, Jacob decided to accept 
this offer. Absurd as such a scruple may seem to have 
been, under the circumstances, the idea of receiving hospi- 
tality and assistance from the man whose life he intended 
to cut short was repugnant to him. But, as he could see 
no other way of effecting his purpose, he yielded to neces^ 
sity, purchased one of the wiry little animals which were 
presently submitted to his inspection, and returned to his 
hotel to dinner. The next morning saw him starting on 
his sixty-mile ride, accompanied by Filmer and by a nonde- 
script individual, hailing from Texas, who acted as guide 
and mule-driver. 

“ You don’t look over and above well, Mr. Stiles,” Fil- 
mer remarked, surveying him with a critical eye. “ Been 
sticking to work in London too long, or what? Never 
mind; this fine air will make another man of you in no 
time.” 

“ Do you think so?” Jacob answered, absently. 

The extraordinary clearness of the atmosphere, the 
warmth of the sun, the view of the glittering snowy range 
for which they were making, and the undulating grassy 
slopes in the foreground, studded over with endless varie- 
ties of wild flowers, failed to produce any effect upon him. 
Indeed, he was scarcely conscious of these things; only of a 
desperate eagerness to get to the end of what might prob- 
ably be his last day on earth. Filmer related the events 
and adventures of the past winter; the mule-driver cursed 
his charges with ingenious elaboration of language; some- 
how or other the hours slipped away, while the air grew 
keener and the track steeper, until at length, just before 
sunset, a point was reached whence a couple of tents, stand- 
ing upon the verge of the snow-fields which trended upward 
toWard Long’s Peak, could be discerned. 

As the cavalcade approached, a tall, bearded man 
emerged from one of the tents and gazed at it, shading his 
eyes with his hand. Jacob at the same moment recognized 
Dick Herbert and saw that he had himself been recognized. 
Dick strode forth to meet him, and as soon as they were 
within ear-shot of one another, called out, “ Jake, by all 


390 a bachelor's blunder. 

that's marvelous! Where in the world have } 7 ou sprung 
from?" 

Jacob stated his ostensible errand in a few words. His 
voice was steady; but his hands were so cold that Hick, 
when he grasped one of them, exclaimed, “ Good heavens, 
man, you're half frozen! Come and warm 3 7 ourself by the 
fire, and in a few minutes you shall have the best supper 
you ever sat down to in your life." 


CHAPTER XLV. 

“for her sake!'' 

It is necessary to spend many months far away from 
friends and fatherland to realize the pleasure of beholding 
a familiar home face unexpectedly. The face itself need 
not be that of a friend; it is for the sake of the associations 
connected with it, not -for its own, that it is so welcome. 
Expatriated Parisians have been seen again and again to 
inhale with rapture the fumes of boiling asphalt, and it is a 
well-known fact that Scotchmen maybe made to weep with 
joy by the sound of the bagpipes — an instrument which, 
one may venture to say, is not calculated to draw tears of 
that particular kind from the eyes of the profane vulgar. 
Thus Dick Herbert, who when in England took very little 
notice of Jacob (that being his customary method with per- 
sons whom he did not like), and Francis, who, without 
knowing much about the young artist, thought him an un- 
attractive, sneaking sort of fellow, vied with one another in 
their attentions to him that night among the lonely Col- 
orado mountains. For him the choicest morsels of venison 
were reserved; in his honor two bottles of champagne, out 
of a very limited stock, were uncorked; and when the meal 
was over, Dick handed him a cigar, with the regretful air 
of one who is parting with his ewe-lamb, and said, “ There! 
it's the last but two of the English lot. I think I'll smoke 
a pipe myself. " 

Jacob neither did full justice to these luxuries nor was 
especially grateful for them. He understood very well to 
what he was indebted for so much civility— or at least he 
understood it so far as to be in no danger of mistaking it 
for a tribute of personal friendship. Sitting beside the 
camp-fire, beneath the twinkling stars, he answered briefly 


a bachelor's blunder. 


391 


and somewhat abruptly the questions with which he was 
N plied. Mrs. Herbert had been quite well when he had left; 
so had Miss Herbert; Captain Cunningham was staying in 
the house, and appeared to be in a fair way of recovery from 
his illness— and so forth. Hope's name was not mentioned 
more than once or twice, and after the first few minutes 
Dick began to make inquiries about the horses and the 
family affairs of the tenantry and other subjects upon which 
Jacob was able to speak both with knowledge and with 
greater ease. Something polite was said about his own 
success, and hopes were expressed for its continuance which 
were more sincere than the subject of them chose to' as- 
sume. It was not until Dick asked him point-blank what 
had put it into his head to come to Colorado, of all places, 
that he reassembled his wits, remembering that he had still 
a part to play. 

“ Really," he answered, “ I can hardly tell you. I was 
not very well in London; T thought I wanted a change, 
and nowadays one hears so much about the bracing air of 
these parts. Besides, I thought the landscapes upon the 
walls of the Royal Academy might be the better of a 
change, too. We seem to have had just a little bit too 
much of Scotch moors and scenes on the Cornish coast and 
6 Backwaters on the Thames near Maidenhead.' " 

“ May I ask whether it was your intention to plunge into 
the heart of the Rocky Mountains unaided and alone?" in T 
quired Francis. “ If so, it seems to me that you were 
rather in luck when you chanced to strike our trail." 

“ Oh," answered Jacob, perceiving that he had overact- 
ed his part a little, “ 1 thought it not unlikely that I might 
come across you somewhere, and I was sure that, if I did, 
you would be kind enough to give me a few hints and help 
me on my way." 

6t That showed a sanguine spirit on your part. Our be- 
ing where we are is only the result of a sudden resolution 
and of the total disappearance of game from our winter 
quarters. The week before last we were in the neighbor- 
hood of Fort Ellis, something like five hundred miles away, 
as the crow flies. " 

“ Mrs. Herbert told me that when she last heard from 
you you were near Virginia City," remarked Jacob, judg- 
ing it best not to mention his abortive journey to that 
place; “ but she seemed to be quite uncertain as to your 


392 


A bachelor's blunder. 


future movements, so that there would have been very- 
little use in my looking for you. " 

“ You have found us, anyhow," said Dick; “ and, if 
you'll be advised by me, you will stay with us. We shall 
be here or hereabouts for another three weeks certain, and if 
you haven't had enough of wild life by that time we must 
try and get you sent on to the Yellowstone Park, which you 
ought to see. But I doubt whether any of the hotels are 
open yet, and you certainly can't camp out all by yourself." 

After this, conversation was kept up in a desultory fash- 
ion for another half hour or so, when Francis, who had had 
a lofig day's work, said good-night, and retired, yawning, 
into his tent. The men, with the exception of Filmer, 
were already sound asleep. 

“ Well, Jake," said Dick, rising and stretching himself, 

I think we may as well turn in now: we don't sit up late 
in this part of the world. Filmer, Mr. Stiles wili share my 
tent: you have got a spare bulfalO-robe for him, I suppose?" 

Ha threw a few fresh logs on to the fire and turned away; 
but; as he w r as stooping to enter his tent, Jacob touched 
him on the elbow and whispered, “ I have something to say 
to you. Hot now; we can't talk here, every word may be 
overheard; but perhaps to-morrow morning you wouldn't 
mind riding or walking with me to some place where I* 
could get a sketch. Of course I only suggest that as an 
excuse for getting rid of Mr. Francis and the others: it 
would be impossible for me to say what I want to say before 
them." 

“ H'm!" muttered 'Dick; “ I meant to start the first 
thing in the morning after some blacktail that we saw to- 
day. Is your subject a pleasant or an unpleasant one, 
Jake?" 

“ It is not exactly pleasant." 

“ And won't it keep?" 

“ Yes; but it won't improve by keeping." 

“ I suppose not: unpleasant things seldom do. Very 
well, then, Francis shall do the shooting to-morrow, and 
I'll take you to a spot from which you will be able to see 
any amount of hills and valleys. You had better lie down 
and make yourself comfortable now, for you won't get 
much sleep after day-break, I can tell you." 

Jacob stretched himself upon the couch of dried grass 
which; had been prepared for him; but for sleep he had 

AT 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


393 


neither inclination nor ability. The time had come, then, 
at last! In a few more hours both he and the man who 
was lying within reach of his arm, and whom it was impos- 
sible that he should surviye, would have entered upon the 
sleep that knows no waking. It was a startling thought, 
^et not so startling as to make him waver for one instant 
in his resolution. He perceived with satisfaction, and even 
with a kind of pride, that his head was cool and his nerves 
steadier than they had been since his landing at Hew York. 
The only thing that troubled him was the treachery, the be- 
trayal of hospitality, which his scheme involved. He would 
much have preferred to meet Herbert in fair fight, had he 
been able to make sure of killing him in that way;' but it 
would have been madness to dream of such an encounter; 
because it was essential that Herbert should die. “I am 
giving up my own life,” Jacob thought; “I give it up 
willingly and gladly for her sake; but I won't give it up in 
vain — I won't give it up for anything less than the certainty 
of setting her free. '' 

By degrees, while he lay there through the long night 
hours, listening to the sighing of the wind among the trees 
and watching the flickering shadows thrown upon the can- 
vas by the flames of the fire outside, as they leaped and 
fell, the deed which he was about to commit seemed to him 
more and more like a righteous one, and he began to feel 
himself something of a hero. It is possible that he was 
indeed a hero of a kind, albeit a misguided one. Assuming 
that there are circumstances which may justify assassina- 
tion (and that is an assumption which has never lacked 
supporters), one must allow a measure of fheroism to the 
assassin who sacrifices himself for absolutely unselfish 
ends. 'Whether this can be allowed to him in the absence 
of the supposed j ustifying circumstances is a question as to 
which opinion is likely to be divided. At any rate, Jacob, - 
whose appreciation of himself with regard to the matter had 
fluctuated considerably, was able at this eleventh hour to 
find comfort in the contemplation of his disinterestedness. 

“ She will never know,'' he reflected. ft I have taken 
every precaution, and the fact of their having moved here 
will be an additional argument against the theory of malice 
aforethought. A year hence, if she thinks about me at all, 
she will think of me with a shudder. An irreclaimable 
wretch, a murderer and a forger, whose bad nature resisted 


394 


a bachelor's bluhder. 

all attempts at kindness — that will be my epitaph, I sup- 
pose. And yet it is simply and solely in order that she may 
be happy that I have condemned myself not only to death 
bnt to infamy. I wonder if there are many men in the 
world who would be capable of that!" 

In all probability there are not many such persons; but 
their rarity is hardly to be deplored on behalf of the com- 
munity at large. 

With the first glimmer of dawn the camp was astir. 
Filmer's voice was heard outside in altercation with the 
cook, who had apparently overslept himself in an unwar- 
rantable manner, and had allowed the fire to burn low; 
pi esently Francis came in and woke Dick, who, in his turn, 
shouted to Jacob to get up. It was intensely cold, and a 
bath in the neighboring stream appeared so uninviting that 
that ceremony was dispensed with by all but three members 
of the party. Dick laughed at the new-comer's ineffectual 
efforts to restore circulation by vigorous rubbing with a 
rough towel. “ You'll soon get used to this kind of life, 
Jake," said he, “ and you'll find it do you a world of good. 
By the middle of the day you'll be so hot you won't know 
what to do with ycflirself. Francis, the honor and pleasure 
of replenishing the larder will be yours this morning, and 
the sooner you start the better. Jake and I are going out 
presently in search of the picturesque." 

Breakfast — a frugal meal — was disposed of before the sun 
was well up; Francis, with two companions, set out on foot; 
and soon after they had gone, Dick and Jacob, mounting 
their horses, rode away in the opposite direction. For some 
time neither of them said much. Every now and again 
Dick pointed out some towering snowy peak, mentioning 
its name; once, when they heard the echoing sound of four 
shots fired in quick succession, he observed, “ That ought 
- to mean one of them knocked over, anyhow;" and shortly 
afterward the sight of a great herd of deer grazing quietly 
within easy range caused him to murmur, regretfully, 
“ What a thundering ass I was to come out with nothing 
but a whip in my hand!" 

At length he reined up upon a grassy plateau where 
quantities of wild flowers were drinking in the sunlight 
that fell aslant upon them from the east, and said, ab- 
ruptly, “ You may speak now, or shout, if you like, with- 
out being overheard. What have you to tell me?" 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


395 


“ Do you remember,” asked Jacob, in a steady, level 
voice, “ that just before you left England I took the liberty 
of warning you that there were dangers to which every 
■woman, no matter how good she may be, must be exposed 
when her husband ostentatiously neglects her? Do you re- 
member telling me to mind my own business, and boasting 
that you made it a rule to trust everybody until you were 
deceived?” 

“ I don’t remember boasting: I remember the conversa- 
tion that you allude to,” answered Dick, shortly. “ Come 
to the point, please. ” 

“ What I dreaded then has happened, and nobody is to 
blame for it but yourself. I suppose that, if you had not 
deserted your wife, the thought of deserting you would 
never have entered into her mind. I don't know that she 
would desert you even now, if you returned to her; but I 
do know that you have lost the chance of ever gaining her 
love. From the first you did not care for her, or you would 
have seen what every one else saw. Now it is too late. 
Cunningham has behaved badly, if you like — he is unworthy 
of her love, if you like; but that is of little consequence. 
The catastrophe is over. She loves him, and he knows it. 
More than that, he has very nearly persuaded her to leave 
her home with him. '' 

With a touch of his heel Dick brought his horse close 
alongside of Jacob's, so that the two men's knees touched 
one another. “ I think you are a liar,'' he said. 6 6 In any 
case, I am sure that you came out here on purpose to tell 
me this, and therefore your story of last night was a lie. 
You will come back to England with me directly, and if I 
find that you have lied knowingly about my wife I will 
break every bone in your skin.'' 

Jacob met his eyes without flinching. “ What I told you 
last night was untrue,'' he replied. “ I did not wish — nor, 
I should think, would you wish — that Mr. Francis should 
guess my errand. What I have said about Mrs. Herbert is 
no lie. But it does not much matter whether you believe 
me or not, because I am not going back to England with 
you. Neither you nor I will see England again.'' 

“ What do you mean by that?” 

“ I will tell you. For years I have led as miserable a 
life as it is possible to lead. Perhaps you think it an ab- 
surd exaggeration for a man who has been given the best 


396 A bachelor's blunder. 

food and clothing to say such a thing; hut I suppose some 
men want a little more than food and clothing to reconcile 
them to life. Thanks to you, I have certainly had plenty 
to eat and drink; thanks to you also, I never had a friendly 
word addressed to me from the time that you know of until 
Mrs. Herbert came to Farndon. Probably you never 
noticed how good she was to me — you were not much given 
to noticing anything that she said or did — but she was good, 
and I was grateful to her, as I take it that only a man in 
my position could be. The very first time that I saw her I 
saw that sheVas not happy, and it was not long before I 
said to myself that if it should ever be in my power to 
make her happy I would do so, though it should cost me 
my life. I don’t know whether I meant that quite literally 
at the time — one uses such phrases without thinking much 
about the significance of them — but I mean it literally 
now. From what I have seen and heard, I am convinced 
that she will never be happy unless she can marry the man 
of her choice; and you will perceive that there is only one 
way o£ enabling her to do that. ’ ’ 

Dick measured the speaker from head to foot with a look 
of wonder aud contempt not unmingled with amusement. 
Jacob’s first announcement had startled, if it had not 
alarmed him; but the effect of it was greatly weakened by 
this harangue, ^hich he found it impossible to take seri- 
ously. “ Are you threatening to blow my brains out?” he 
asked. “ It strikes me, my friend, that you are a pretty 
good candidate for a strait- waistcoat. At least that’s the 
best excuse I can make for you. Now you’ll oblige me by 
turning round and riding back to camp. ” 

Jacob’s answer was to draw his revolver from his breast- 
pocket. 

Quick as thought, Dick, who had half expected this, 
closed with him, caught him round the body, and would 
have dragged him out of the saddle, had not Jacob been a 
perfect horseman and a desperate man into the bargain. 
It was a mistaken method of attack, and it had a disastrous 
result. With one blow of the heavy whip which he carried, 
Dick might have broken the other’s wrist, or, at any rate, 
forced him to drop his weapon; but he trusted too much 
to his own superior weight and strength; and, although 
these must have told iu another minute, there was not 
another minute to spare. Jacob was well aware of that. 


A BACHELOR^ BLENDER. 


397 

To take aim was out of the question, for his right arm, 
which had been forced upward by Dick’s shoulder, was 
almost powerless; but he managed to turn the revolver 
round and fire. The shot, apparently, did not take effect; 
but the plunging of the terrified horses enabled him to free 
himself a little. He rose in his stirrups, knowing that this 
was his last chance, threw himself forward, and, pressing 
the muzzle of the revolver against his antagonist’s back, 
drew the trigger a second time. Instantly Dick’s grip' re- 
laxed. Without a groan he fell upon his horse’s neck and 
rolled heavily to the ground. Jacob himself, being com- 
pletely overbalanced, was also unhorsed, and the two 
affrighted beasts, freed of their riders, galloped off in the 
direction from which they had come. 

The thunder of their hoofs had died away before Jacob, 
w T ho had been a little dazed by his fall as well as by the en- 
counter which had ended so suddenly, rose to his feet and 
looked around him at the snow-capped mountains, the 
sunny slopes, and the valleys which lay in deep shadow. 
Stretched at his feet, silent and motionless, was the man 
who had rescued him from the work-bouse, had given him 
home, money, and education, and who had been thus re- 
warded. In that unbroken stillness the voice that was 
heard by Cain seemed to resound in his ears: “ What hast 
thou done?” 

“ For her sake!” he cried aloud, in a voice of anguish; 
“ for her sake!” And the mocking echo of his words was 
thrown back to him from the cliffs. 

He turned hurriedly away, and, taking from his pocket 
the photograph that Hope had given him, gazed at it for a 
few moments with eager, straining eyes. “ Good-bye!” he 
murmured; “ good-bye!” Then, a queer sort of smile 
curling his lip, “ Good-bye, Jacob Stiles. It would have 
been better for you if you had never been born; but it 
seems that you had your work to do in this world, and you 
haye done it. Go out now into space!” 

He raised the revolver to his head, pulled the trigger, 
and dropped, stone dead, a few yards away from his victim, 
while a third shot woke the echoes of the lonely hills, 
puzzling those who heard it in the camp far away, and 
who knew that “ the boss ” had started on his ride without 
fire-arms. 


398 


a bachelor's blunder. 


CHAPTER XLVL 

HOPE TAKES HER OWN WAT. 

To be able to do nothing with perfect satisfaction is a 
distinct gift. Not many of ns possess it, nor, for that 
matter, have cause to covet it; but it seems probable that 
so long as the world lasts there will be drones in every 
hive; and that the drones should have the power of accept- 
ing their situation with ease and grace is desirable for them- 
selves and hurtful to nobody. Bertie Cunningham, to 
whom absolute idleness, far from being distasteful, was 
positively enjoyable, lingered on at Farndon, although the 
amusements provided for him there' were neither many nor 
varied; and if he outstayed his welcome, he received no 
hint to that effect from his hostess. 

One morning he was sitting in Dick’s study, contentedly 
smokings a cigarette after breakfast, and wondering whether 
he ought to join Carry, whom he could see loitering on the 
terrace outside, when his letters and the newspapers were 
brought to him. He ran his eye over the former and 
tossed them aside: the days when the arrival of the post 
had been a bad moment for him were past and gone now. 
Then he picked up the/* Times,” just to see whether any- 
thing particular had happened, before turning to the more 
attractive columns of the “ Sportsman.” Something had 
indeed happened — something that made him bound out of 
his chair and drop the paper, with a cry of consternation. 
For under the heading of “ Latest Intelligence ” was the 
following telegram, dated New York: 

“ A terrible and mysterious tragedy is reported from 
the neighborhood of Denver, Colorado. It appears that an 
Englishman, Mr. Herbert, who has been for some months 
past hunting in the Rocky Mountains, accompanied by*a 
friend and attended by the numerous following of which 
these parties are usually composed, was joined a few days 
ago by a young artist named Stiles, with whom it is stated 
that he was on terms of intimacy. Whether a dispute 
arose between these gentlemen, or whether, as seems more 
likely, Stiles was attacked by a sudden fit of insanity, will 
probably never be known; but circumstances leave no room 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


399 


» 

for doubt that the latter, after shooting his companion with 
a revolver, committed suicide. They appear to have left 
the camp together on horseback; and their friends, alarmed 
by the return of the riderless horses, instituted a search for 
them, which resulted in the discovery of their bodies, 
lying side by side, at a distance of some miles from their 
starting point. Mr. Herbert was still breathing, when 
’ picked up; but no hope is entertained of his recovery. 
Stiles, whose death-wound, it is said, was evidently self- 
inflicted, would seem to be identical with the Mr. Stiles 
whose pictures, representing a Roman chariot-race and the 
Ascot Cup Day, were so much admired in last year’s exhi- 
bition of the London Academy of Arts. Great sympathy is 
expressed for the family of Mr. Herbert, who was well 
known and popular on both sides of the Atlantic, and who 
is understood to have been only a short time married.” 

Bertie, as soon as he had got over his first shock of hor- 
ror and bewilderment, walked to the window, and beckoned 
to Carry, who presently joined him. 

44 What is the matter?” she asked, quickly, when she saw 
his grave face. 

“I don't know how to tell you,” he answered: 44 you 
had better read for yourself. ” And he handed her the 
44 Times,” pointing to the paragraph quoted. 

Carry’s nerves never broke down under any circum- 
stances, and her senses were always at her command in an 
emergency. She was fond of her brother — more so, per- 
haps, than she had ever given him reason to suppose — but 
it would have been foreign to her nature to indulge in 
lamentations while any active measures remained to be 
taken. 

4 ‘ This may not be true,” she said. <k The first thing 
to be done is to -find out whether it is or not. Lock up the 
paper, so that Hope may not see it, and I will telegraph to 
Mr. Francis. You had better ride over to Windsor with 
th$ message. That will not waste much time, and it would 
never do to let the people at the Farndon post-office read 
it.” 

44 Very well: I’ll go round and get a horse saddled,” 
answered Bertie. 

But as he was crossing the hall he met the butler, who 
handed him a telegram. This proved to be from Francis, 
and ran as follows: 44 Herbert badly hurt through an acci- 


400 a bachelor's bluhder. 

# 

dent. Extent of injuries not yet certain, but feared very 
serious. Consultation of surgeons- to-morrow. AVill tele- 
graph result. JDo as you think best about breaking news. " 

With this confirmation of the evil tidings, Bertie returned 
to Carry, who agreed with him that it would be wiser and 
kinder to leave Hope in ignorance of what had happened 
until the report of the surgeons should be ascertained. 

“ There would be no object in keeping her in suspense 
for twenty-four hours," she said. “ The whole affair is in- 
explicable to me. What reason could that wretch have 
had for murdering my brother?" 

“ Francis speaks of it as an accident," remarked Bertie. 

“ You or I would have done the same thing in his place. 
It sounds less shocking, and most likely he knows that 
poor Hope had taken a fancy to Stiles. We shall have a 
terrible scene when she is told, I am afraid. I don't think 
she is exactly wanting in courage, but I should say that she 
had very little self-control. We must keep her in the dark 
as long as we can. " 

But almost before this kindly intention had been expressed 
the speaker knew that to carry it out was no longer prac- 
ticable. The door opened, and Hope, deadly pale, but be- 
traying no other symptom of emotion, advanced toward 
the two well-meaning conspirators. 

“ I see that you know it all," she said, quietly. “ Will 
you let me look at the £ Times,' please? My maid brought 
me the ‘ Morning Post ' just now." 

“ What idiots we were not to think of that!" exclaimed 
Bertie, involuntarily. 

Hope glanced at him for a moment. “ Hid you mean 
to conceal it from me?" she asked. “ That would have 
been no kindness, and it would have made me lose precious 
time." She read the few sentences in the newspaper 
quickly, and then turned to the advertisement columns. 

“ There will be two steamers for New York to-morrow," 
she said. “ I suppose one or the other will be likely to 
have a spare cabin. I can go second class, if all the first 
are taken. " 

“You must not think of doing that," said Carry. 

“ We have had a telegram from Mr. Francis — here it is — 
and he is to telegraph again to-morl’ow. At least do not 
start until we have heard again. " 


A bachelor's blunder. 


401 


“ Why?" asked Hope, sharply. “ Why should I not 
start?" 

“ Because — it might be useless." 

“ Do you mean that he might be dead before I reached 
him? But you can't think that! Captain Cunningham " 
— with a sudden and piteous change of voice — “ you don't 
think that Dick will die, do you?" 

Bertie was silent, feeling that it would be more merciful 
to dishearten than to encourage her; but Carry, taking her 
sister-in-law's hand, said, gently, “ My dear Hope, you are 
not fit to undertake such a journey, 



that he would not wish it. There 


but to wait as patiently as we can for more news, and if it 
is favorable, as of course it may be — " 

“ I can not wait," interrupted Hope, who had already 
conquered her momentary weakness, 44 and I do not believe 
that Dick will die. I shall start by the early train to- 
morrow morning. If news comes later in the day, you can 
telegraph it on to me at Liverpool or Queenstown; but I 
will not run the risk of being detained here longer than is 
necessary. " 

And from this determination it was impossible to move 
her. When they found that she meant to take her own 
way, first Bertie, then Carry, and then both of them, 
wanted to go with her; but that she would not hear of. - 
She refused even to take her maid, alleging — probably with 
truth — that such an attendant would be far more of an 
incumbrance than a help. Finally (for she herself was at 
last brought to see that she could not make the journey 
quite alone) it was arranged that she should be accompanied 
by the butler, a steady, stolid, and not unintelligent 
Briton, who might be trusted to shoulder a way for his 
mistress through any ordinary difficulties, and who had 
been for many years in Dick's service. 

Thus protected, she set off on the following morning, de- 
clining Bertie's proffered escort as far as Liverpool, and 
maintaining up to the last an aspect of cheerfulness which 
that young gentleman hardly knew whether to admire or to 
deprecate. If you hear nothing before you sail, try to 
think that no news is good news," he said, as he heqped her 
into the railway-carriage. 

“ There will be no need for trying," she answered. 4 4 1 


402 


A BACHELORS BLUNDER. 


am sure that Dick will get well ag^in, and, even if I were 
not sure, I would not allow myself to think anything else,” 

To many people the worst contingencies always appear 
the most probable, while others, more happily constituted, 
seem to be literally incapable of believing in a crushing 
disaster so long as any room remains for incredulity. Hope 
had as yet realized little more than that Dick was badly 
hurt, and that she must go to him. Afterward, when she 
had more leisure for reflection, she began to be very sorry 
for poor Jacob who, she doubted not, had destroyed him- 
self in a moment of madness. She recollected what good 
spirits he had been in at starting, and was convinced that 
what he had done could not have been premeditated. Her 
conclusions, in short, were precisely what Jacob had in- 
tended that they should be. 

At Liverpool she found, as might have been anticipated, 
that the accommodation which she required was not to be 
had on board either of the outgoing steamers; but the 
ways of travelers to whom money is no object are generally 
made smooth for them, and the captain of one of the ves- 
sels was induced to cede his own cabin, when informed of 
the urgency of the case. Brooks the butler, was more 
disappointed than his mistress when the steamer left 
Queenstown without any telegram from Farndon having 
been brought on board. “ I did not expect to hear,” Hope 
said, in answer to the man’s expressions of regret; “ and 
you know, Mr. Herbert can hardly begin to mend for some 
days to come.” 

It was, perhaps, no bad thing for her that she was pros- 
trated by sea-sickness immediately after encountering the 
long Atlantic swell, and that for three days and nights she 
was unable to lift her head from her pillow. When at 
length, dizzy and confused, she managed to crawl up on 
deck, she was informed that the passage was already half 
accomplished, and that the daily runs had been highly 
creditable. The passengers, who had discovered her name 
and errand, showed her a great deal of kindly attention, 
doing their best to keep her mind from dwelling upon 
painful thoughts, and assuring her that the voyage prom- 
ised to be one of the shortest on record. Afterward, when 
she recalled that time, it filled her with amazement to re- 
member that she had talked, eaten, and slept, like every- 
body else. Impatient she certainly was, and anxious to 


a bachelor's blunder. 


403 


reach Dick's bedside; but not once did she give way to 
despondency. 

“ You will see that we shall find good news waiting for 
us at New York, Brooks," she said to the butler, who an- 
swered, “ Yes’m," and tried to look as if he agreed with 
her. Personally he did not feel sanguine; but the event 
proved Hope to be a true prophet; for the pilot brought 
her a dispatch from Francis, who had been informed by 
telegraph of her approach, and this, though somewhat 
short, was as satisfactory as could be desired: “ Herberhis 
doing fairly well. Bullet extracted." More particulars 
would have been welcome; but it was impossible to grum- 
ble at so encouraging a report, and Hope triumphantly 
showed it to the skeptical Brooks, as well as to certain of 
her fellow-passengers, who had held aloof eying her ap- 
prehensively while she perused it, but were now profuse in 
their congratulations. 

It was only when she was seated in the train and speed- 
ing westward that the excitement which had sustained her 
so long began to abate a little, and that, for the first time, 
it occurred to her to wonder whether Dick would be 
pleased to see her or not. She knew that if there was one 
thing that he disliked more than another it was being made a 
fuss over, and it seemed quite within the bounds of possibility 
that he might consider her action precipitate and officious. 
Thus having borne a real trouble admirably, she proceeded 
to make herself wretched over an imaginary one, as the habit 
of many women is. 

Meanwhile, it must be owned that her arrival in Colorado 
was not looked forward to exactly with pleasure by the only 
person who as yet was aware of its imminence. The first thing 
that Francis did, after superintending the removal of his 
wounded friend to Denver and hearing the discouraging 
verdict pronounced by local talent upon the case, was to 
find out the names and addresses of the two most eminent 
surgeons in the United States and telegraph urgently to 
them. These gentlemen at once established the presence of 
two bullets in their patient's body. The first, which had 
lodged in the muscles of the back, was not a source of danger 
to life; but the position of the second was less easy to deter- 
mine, and they declined at first to give an opinion as to 
whether and when it would be possible to remove it. They 
considered, however, that Mr. Herbert's fine constitution 


404 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


and healthy condition ought to give him a chance of pull- 
ing through, and that much Hope might have learned by 
remaining another two days in England. As the result of 
further investigation and debate, an operation was decided 
upon, which proved completely successful, so that at the 
time when Hope landed at Hew York her husband was 
virtually out of danger, and Francis, who, up to then, had 
had no time for rest or thought, was able to employ his 
mind in pitting together certain pieces of circumstantial 
evidence and drawing his own deductions from the same. 

It is needless to say that he had already been interviewed 
by many representatives of the press, all of them eager for 
information as to the causes of the affray which had so 
nearly proved fatal to his friend; but his answers had not 
been considered satisfactory. Upon being reproachfully 
reminded that the public took a keen and legitimate in- 
terest in this thing, he had replied that he could well sym- 
pathize with the public, since that was exactly the feeling 
which he himself experienced, but that he could only 
recommend the public to imitate him and be patient. 
“ In short, gentlemen, I know no more about the matter 
than you do. Mr. Herbert is not at present in a state to 
be cross-examined; but if you will come back again when 
he has quite recovered, it will doubtless give him sincere 
pleasure to see you. And now, as I am sure that you must 
have many other affairs of importance to inquire into, I 
won't detain you any longer." 

The result of this rather cavalier method of dealing with 
the Fourth Estate was the appearance in print of more than 
one description of Mr. Francis, in which his face, figure, 
and mode of pronouncing his own language were freely 
criticised, while he was reported as being “ unable or un- 
willing " to afford any assistance to those who, in the dis- 
charge of their duty, had called upon him. nevertheless, 
it was true enough that he knew little more than the inter- 
viewers, and even his suspicions were of the vaguest possi- 
ble kind. Had he been foolishly and unwarrantably gar- 
rulous, he might have informed them that he had found a 
photograph of Mrs. Herbert tightly clutched between the 
finger and thumb of Jacob Stiles's left hand, and also 
that, from inquiries which he had made in Denver, he had 
ascertained that the murderer had arrived in that town 
from Montana — a circumstance which, to his mind, was 


a bachelor's blunder. 


405 


tolerably conclusive as to the question of premeditation; 
but that was all or nearly all, the foundation that he pos- 
sessed upon which to build up a theory; and Dick, though 
he had recovered consciousness immediately after his re- 
moval to camp, had volunteered nothing beyond a bare 
statement of the fact that he had been shot by Jacob. 

While his friend's life seemed still to be trembling in the 
balance Francis refrained from questioning him, and in- 
deed from making any allusion to the circumstances which 
had brought him to such a pass; but he felt that it would 
be absurd, not to say impossible, to observe this reticence 
forever; so one afternoon when he was sitting by Dick's 
bedside he attacked him point-blank with, “ I say, Her- 
bert, what did that fellow try to kill you for?" 

“ I suppose," answered Dick, staring placidly up at the 
ceiling, “ that he didn't like me." 

“ Oh! you dismiss the suggestion of insanity, then?" 
said Francis, quickly. 

“Much obliged for the implied compliment. I don't 
know that a man's disliking me is a proof of his sanity; 
but it certainly doesn't prove the reverse." 

“It seems that he disliked himself, too, since he blew 
his own brains out after doing his best to murder you. " 

“ So it seems. But I take it that we should all prefer 
committing suicide to being hung." 

“ Herbert, what was his motive? You must know." 

“ My dear fellow, when a man holds a pistol to your 
head there isn't time to go into these questions of detail." 

“ But didn't he go into them before he held the pistol 
to your head?" 

“ Oh, if you want to know how it happened I'll tell you. 
We had a dispute, and I lost my temper with him and 
threatened to break every bone in his body if — well, if it 
turned out that something which he hadr asserted to be a 
fact was a lie. Then he produced his revolver and there 
was a scuffle and I was hit. That's all. If you insist upon 
it, I will tell you what the subject of the dispute was; but 
I'd rather not." 

There was certainly no occasion for Dick to do violence 
to his inclinations in that respect. Francis said nothing 
more for a few minutes, and then asked, casually, “ Didn't 
Stiles profess a great attachment to Mrs. Herbert?" 

“ My wife was kind to him," answered Dick; “ perhaps 


406 


A BACHELOR'S BLUNDER. 


she understood him better than I did. He seems to have 
felt that he was unfairly treated by me. Well, he is dead 
now, poor beggar! Suppose we talk about something 
else. " 

4 4 All right: only we mustn't talk too much about any- 
thing just at present. By the way, Herbert, would you 
like me to send for your wife?" 

44 On no account!" answered Dick, speaking with con- 
siderably more animation, and raising himself on his elbow 
for an instant. 44 You haven't asked her to come, have 
you?" 

“Oh, no; I haven't asked her to come. I have been 
telegraphing to England, of course, and I suppose it is _ 
possible that she may come without being asked. " 

44 1 don't think she would do that," said Dick, consider- 
ingly; 44 nobody could say that it was her duty to do that. 

It would have been absurd for her to start when any mo- 
ment might have brought her the news of my death; and 
now you can telegraph that I am all right, you know." 

44 1 couldn't quite say that with truth." 

44 You can say that I shall be all right in a week or two, 
anyhow. Whatever you do, Francis, don't let her come 
out. After what I told you the other day, you ought to 
understand that that would be a great mistake. I do hope 
you haven't taken it into your head that my being knocked 
over like this gives a, fine opportunity for a reconciliation. 

I don't know how you may .look at it, but it seems to me 
that to summon her here would be bringing a most unfair 
pressure to bear upon her." 

44 1 l\ave no intention of bringing any pressure to bear 
upon anybody," replied Francis, with a slight smile, 44 and 
I promise you that if Mrs. Herbert comes here it will not 
be my fault. " 

44 I wonder what she is coming for!" he soliloquized, 
after he had left the room. 44 A little bit of show-off, I 
suppose, combined with a little remorse. The amazing 
thing to me is that any woman in her senses should throw 
over a man like Herbert, who adores her, for a petit maitre 
like Cunningham, who cares so little about her that he 
engages himself to another woman before her very eyes. 
But such is the way of them; they can't get on without 
being told that they are adored. It's easy enough to guess 
what that unfortunate fellow Stiles's errand was. Ho 


a bachelor's blunder. 


407 


doubt be was in love with lier, too, and came out here in 
a lit of jealousy and spite to tell her husband some story 
or other about her and Cunningham. I should doubt 
whether he started with a murderous intention; as far as 
he was concerned, it would have been more to the purpose 
to put an end to Cunningham than to Herbert or himself. 
And now the next thing will be that we shall have the 
cause of all this promiscuous shooting here, protesting her 
innocence, retarding Herbert's recovery, and wanting to 
nurse him — which, in all probability, she is utterly incapa- 
ble of doing. I wonder whether she would turn back and 
go home again if I were to represent to her in very polite 
language that she wasn't wanted." 

Thus it came to pass that when Hope reached her jour- 
ney's end she met with a grave and rather chilling recep- 
tion from Mr. Francis. “ Your husband is making quick 
progress, Mrs. Herbert," he said; “ that is, he is progress- 
ing as quickly as one can expect, considering that he has 
lost a great deal of blood and has been through a sharp 
operation. But as for your seeing him — well, really I don't 
quite know what to say about that. I must tell you tha 
he knows nothing of your having left home. I thought it 
best to keep that fact to myself, because my instructions 
are that he is on no account to be agitated. ' ' 

“ Of course," answered Hope, humbly, “ I must not 
ask you to do anything that might be bad for him; but 
would not it be possible to prepare him by degrees? Could 
you not suggest, for instance, that I should probably be 
anxious to be with him?" 

<£ To tell you the truth, that is just what 1 did suggest, 
the other day; and he replied b}^ expressing a 'very strong 
wish that you should not be sent for." 

Hope's countenance fell; but she accepted her sentence 
without a murmur. “ Then say no more to him about 
it," she returned, “ and I will wait here until he is strong 
enough to see me without risk." 

“ But that may be weeks, Mrs. Herbert." 

“ I can't help it if it is months. At least I shall be at 
hand in case I am wanted, and I shall hear how he is every 
day.” 

This submissiveness was so unlike what Francis had ex- 
pected that he could not^ bring himself to give Mrs. Her- 
bert the “ piece of his mind " with which he had several 


408 


A bachelor's blunder. 


times favored her in imagination. He even apologized a 
little. “ One must be guided by the doctor's orders, you 
see," he said— a proposition to which she at once assented. 

However, fortunately for Hope, the doctor did not prove 
himself Mr. Francis's ally on this occasion; for no sooner 
had he been presented to Mrs. Herbert than he declared 
that his patient, so far from being the worse, would be very 
much the better for seeing her; and when Francis urged 
the expediency of delay and the danger of sudden shocks, 
he only laughed. 

“ I will take it upon me to say that your friend's nerves 
are about equal to standing that shock, sir," he answered. 
“You come right in with me, Mrs. Herbert, and don't be 
afraid." 

Thereupon he led Hope to the bedroom in which Hick 
was lying, pushed her gently through the door, which he 
closed behind her, and, returning to Francis, who was 
standing in the passage, remarked, “ I reckon you'll find 
that a prettty fair prescription, sir." 

“ Oh, you think so, do you?" returned Francis, snap- 
c ishly. “Then perhaps you will look in again presently 
and see how it has worked. Don't you say F didn't warn 
you; that's all." 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

EXPLANATIONS ARE DISPENSED WITH.^ 

Hope paused on the threshold of the darkened room into 
which she had been thrust, her heart beating fast with ap- 
prehension. During the long journey from New Ymrk she 
had had time to draw a great many mental pictures of her 
meeting with her husband, all of which had been char- 
acterized by a complete absence of emotional display on 
both sides. It was not to be expected — so she had told 
herself — that Dick would be overjoyed at beholding her, 
nor must she be surprised if, at first, he should even give 
her to understand that she would have done better to re- 
main at home. Nevertheless, the confirmation of her fears 
by Mr. Francis had been a grievous disappointment to her; 
and, the doctor's precipitate action having deprived her of 
all presence of mind, she stood motionless in the door- way, 
tremblingly awaiting the exclamation of surprise and dis- 
pleasure which never came. 


a bachelor's blunder. 


409 


When her eyes became accustomed to the gloom she per- 
ceived that Dick had the best reasons for keeping silence; 
and to see him sleeping soundly was only less of a relief to 
her than it would have been to receive his assurance that 
she was not unwelcome. 

She stole across the room on tiptoe and stood looking 
down at his white face and pinched features with a feeling 
of intense sorrow and pity. Physical suffering is by no 
means the worst misfortune which mortals have to bear; 
but, for some reason or other, it is that which excites by 
far the keenest and readiest sympathy. Moreover, in a 
woman's eyes there is always something especially pathetic 
in the spectacle of a strong man reduced to helplessness. 
As Hope gazed her courage returned to her, and she ceased 
to dread her husband's probable rebuke. What if he 
should rebuke her? After all, it was her right to be 
where she was, and she had done nothing to forfeit that 
right. She rehearsed a little speech in which her case was 
set forth clearly and dispassionately. She would represent 
to Dick that somebody must nurse him, and that she be- 
lieved herself to be doing only what was proper and usual 
in undertaking that necessary function. She would then 
assure him that he need have no fear of her bothering him 
with foolish questions, and that so soon as he should be 
convalescent she would be ready, if he desired it,, to leave 
him. 

But that speech was never uttered, nor was any one of 
the numerous scenes which Hope had passed through in 
fancy on her way from Farndon to Colorado enacted. For 
when Dick opened his eyes and saw who was standing be- 
side him, his brain was still confused with sleep; so that, 
instead of looking annoyed or distressed or even astonished, 
he smiled contentedly, and murmured, “ Hope, my darling, 
have you come to me at last?" — just as any silly lover 
might have done who was not approaching his fortieth 
year, who did not hold common-sense views on the subject 
of marriage, and who had not ample grounds for believing 
that a friendly esteem was the utmost that he could ever 
look for from the person addressed. And Hope, for her 
part, forgot all her good resolutions, forgot that invalids 
must not be agitated, and that a nurse who is fit to be 
called a nurse at all must retain her self-command, what- 
ever may happen. Dropping on her knees by the bedside. 


410 


A bachelor's blunder. 


she took Dick's wasted hand and kissed it again and again, 
while she sobbed out something incoherent and unintelligi- 
ble, which was not on that account any the less easy to be 
understood. 

And so everything was explained without an explanation. 
There is no better method of clearing away misunderstand- 
ings than this; nor, so long as the world goes round, will 
lovers have any occasion to use their tongues while they 
have eyes to speak with. Moreover, when they do begin to 
talk, they almost invariably talk rubbish; and this was 
exactly what Dick Herbert and his wife did for the space 
of a quarter of an hour by the clock. But when they be- 
came more or less rational, there was, of course, a great 
deal to be said,_.little though what had lately seemed so im- 
portant signified now. Hope got up, dried her eyes, and 
seated herself in the chair which Francis had vacated a 
short time before. 

“ Now I should like to know," said she, radiantly — - 
“ you may call it impertinent curiosity if you choose — but 
I should like to know why you have deceived me all this 
time!" 

“ Never deceived anybody in my life," returned Dick, in 
the feeble voice which sounded so oddly coming from him. 
“ I'm incapable of it." 

“ How can you say so! Haven'l you told me, times out 
of number, that you didn't care one pin for me? But per- 
haps you didn't care — then." 

“ You are the only woman in the world whom I have 
ever loved, or been near loving. " 

“ Oh, Dick! Have you forgotten telling me about that 
lady whom you proposed to, and who didn't return your 
affection?" 

“ Well, that was you. I should have thought you might 
have guessed that." 

“ I didn't guess it; and it made me very unhappy. How 
could I suppose that you meant such a thing, after your 
speaking to me. as you had just done? I don't like to think 
of it even now. " 

“ Nor do I, to tell you the truth," answered Dick. 
“ We won't think about it any more. But this I will say 
for myself, that, however great a humbug I may have been, 
you were a worse one; that is, supposing that you have 
loved me all along. But I don't believe that you have. 


A bachelor's blunder. 


411 


Come now, Hope, upon your honor, did you love me when 
you married me?" 

Hope hesitated. “ I think I must have loved you almost 
the first time that we met," she said, “ but I didn't know 
it until long afterward. I wasn't quite sure of it until you 
had started for America. But you ought to have known 
it." 

“ I dare say! In the first place, I had your distinct as- 
surance that you did not love me — mind you, I never made 
any such declaration to you — and in the second place, I had 
to look at probabilities. It was so likely— wasn't it? — that 
you should fall in love with an ugly old fellow — " 

“ Not ugly, Dick." 

“ Well, comparatively ugly, and positively old. It was 
so likely that you should fall in love with a man of that 
description, when you had another who vvas superlatively 
young and handsome at your feet!" 

Hope held up her hand imploringly. “ Don't!" she ex- 
claimed. “ When you talk like that, you make me hate 
him; and one ought not to hate one's brother-in-law. Oh, 
Dick, how horrid it was of you not to believe me when I 
told you that I hated him!" 

“I suppose," answered Dick, musingly, “ that it was, 
as you say, rather horrid of me. I am sorry for having 
been so stupid, and it shall not occur again. Will that 
do?" 

Hope laughed a little. “ Yes, that will do; anything 
will do now. But what made you so determined to go 
away and leave me?" 

- “Ah, that's, rather a complicated question: you must 
put yourself in my place if you want to understand why I 
was anxious to get out of England. But my motives were 
not entirely selfish, for all that. As I told you at the time, 
I thought it would be best for both of us that we should 
part for some months; and really it has been best for us, 
though not in the way that I meant. I am by no means 
sure that we shouldn't have gone on deceiving ourselves 
and one another to the end of the chapter, if it hadn't been 
for the bullet that is lying on the table over there." 

Hope started up and examined the missile alluded to 
with shuddering interest. “ Oh, if it had killed you!" she 
exclaimed, presently. 

“ All things considered, I am very glad that it didn't. I 


412 


a bachelor's blunder. 


shouldn't have said that an hour ago, though. My im- 
pression then was that the luck had gone rather against us 
both — certainly against you. You were within something 
like an eighth of an inch of being a widow, I*can tell you." 

Hope made no rejoinder. After some time, she said, 
“ It makes me very sorry to think of poor Jacob. Of 
course he must have been quite out of his mind when he at- 
tacked you; but it was an odd sort of fatality that he 
should have met you at all; for he had no expectation of 
doing so when he left England." 

4 ‘ Had he not?" 

“ None whatever: he told me so himself. Indeed, he 
seems to have 'started without any definite plans. He was 
rather odd in his manner on the last evening — we all no- 
ticed it — but there was nothing at all to make one suppose 
that he could be losing his senses. I am afraid his was a 
very unhappy life. Do you know, he told me all about 
that trouble that he got into years ago, and it distressed 
me to hear the way in which he spoke of it. He seemed to 
think that you had never forgiven him and never would; 
and upon that point, at all events, I am sure .that he was 
not quite sane. I was in hopes that when you came home 
I should be able to make you friends again." 

“ I doubt whether 3^0 u would have sugceeded." 

Hope looked surprised. 6{ But, Dick, surely you have 
forgiven him long ago?" 

“ Yes; but there is a difference between forgiving a man 
and making a friend of him. Jacob Stiles was a bad lot; 
that's the long and the short of it. He is dead, and one 
would rather say nothing but good about him; but as a 
matter of fact he was a liar and a sneak. " 

“ I can't agree with you there!" cried Hope, to whom 
this seemed very unjust. 

“I know you can't, my dear," answered Dick, with a 
smile: “ you think all the world -is as honest as yourself, or 
capable of being made as honest; but, unhappily, that is 
not the case. At least I don't think it is the case. Let us 
dismiss Jacob Stiles from our minds and agree to differ 
about him. We love one another well enough to be able to 
afford the luxury of an occasional difference of opinion." 

The truth is that Dick's opinions were not easily changed; 
and to the present day his estimate of Jacob's character 


A BACI^ELOI^S blunder. 


413 


remains what he then declared it to be. The man, as he be- 
lieved and believes, died with a lie upon his lips. He never 
cared to mention that to Hope, nor deigned to inquire 
whether there was the shadow of a foundation for it. 
Jacob's pretension of being actuated by a desire to set Hope 
free he dismissed as a lie like the other — a piece of theatri- 
cal bravado, by means of which a man of that stamp might 
not improbably seek to throw a halo over assassination. 
Hope herself could not, from the nature of the case, do 
full justice to the memory of the man who died for her. 
A lunatic who has done his best to murder the person whom 
you love most on earth is not precisely one whom it is easy 
to recall with tender feelings; and indeed in these latter 
times Mrs. Herbert has surrendered much of her inde- 
pendence of judgment, having insensibly fallen into the 
habit of adopting her husband's views (which, to be sure, 
have always a basis of sound common sense to recommend 
them), and being disposed to think that he must be right, 
even when at first sight he might appear to be wrong. It 
is probably just as well for her that she should hold that 
conviction, and it is certainly well that she has been spared 
the pain of knowing that a stupid and purposeless crime 
was once committed for her sake. 

For the moment she was quite willing to adopt Dick's 
suggestion and dismiss Jacob Stiles from her mind. Sfce 
and her husband had many things of far greater importance 
to say to one another; and these occupied so long a time in 
the telling that Francis, who had been impatiently awaiting 
in the next room the end of this interminable interview, 
judged it imperative upon him at last to come in and put a 
stop to it. 

It was a very pretty little picture that met his eye when 
he entered — the young* wife sitting by the bedside, holding 
her husband's hand in both her own, while the sick man, 
with parted lips and color a little higher, perhaps, than the 
doctor would have approved, was eagerly listening to her; 
and it is melancholy to be obliged to record that the only 
comment which this scene drew from Francis was the un- 
spoken one of, “ By George! she's talked him over, then, 
after aTl." 

Dick raised himself on his elbow and said, “ Francis, old 
man, come here: I have something to say to you." 

“ Won't it keep till to-morrow?" asked Francis. “ It 


414 


a bachelor’s blunder. 


seems to me,‘ by the look of you-, that you have been talk- 
ing too much already. ” 

“ Well, what I was going to say is soon said. I only 
wanted to tell you that it is all right.” 

“Iam delighted to hear it,” answered Francis, a little 
stiffly. 

“ That, I suppose, means that you don’t believe it. 
What an ass you are, Francis! I shouldn’t say it was all 
right if it wasn’t; but I am too tired to tell you the whole 
story. Hope, do you think you can make this pig-headed 
fellow understand? You and he will have to see a good 
deal of each other for the next week or two, I expect, and 
if you coi 1 n ' make friends it would be more com- 



I don’t think you like him very 


fortable 


much at present; but you will, when you know him bet- 
ter; and you needn’t hesitate to speak openly to him about 
—about — you and me, you know, because he has heard 
already from me all that there was to hear.” 

This speech was not very well calculated to set either 
Hope or Francis at ease, nor, in spite of the good advice 
bestowed upon them, dM they at once become friends. In 
the course of the evenirr^ Hope explained in a few words 
that certain clouds which had arisen between her and her 
husband had now been finally dispersed; to which Francis, 
more politely than truthfully, responded that he had always 
expected that happy consummation to be reached sooner or 
later. The subject was then dropped by mutual consent, 
and was not recurred to. 

Since those days Hope has learned to appreciate the ster- 
ling qualities which distinguish Mr. Francis, and is always 
ready to extend a warm welcome to him when he visits 
Farndon; but for the time being she desired nothing more 
ardently than that he should take himself off and leave her 
alone with Dick. As for him, he had sufficient tact to 
perceive the advisability of that course. He only remained 
at Denver until his friend’s convalescence was thoroughly 
established; and when he announced his speedy departure 
for England, Dick — nothing if not candid — answered, 
cheerfully. “All right, old chap: you must be awfully 
bored here, and, under the circumstances, you know, you’re 
rather a bore to us. Don’t mind my saying so, do you?” 

And probably the writer and readers of this narrative 
would do well to imitate the discreet Francis. Once upon 


A BACHELOR^ BLUNDER. 


415 


a time, as everybody knows, there was a fox who, having 
lost his tail in a trap, endeavored to persuade himself and 
other foxes that he was far more comfortable without it; 
and ever so many of us who are no longer in a position to 
waste onr time as lovers do are wont to smile at youthful 
follies and affect to prefer the spectator's more dignified 
part. But the pretense takes in nobody. Looking on is 
dull work; we should assuredly not be lookers-on if we 
could help it; nor will any fox deprive himself voluntarily 
of the appendage wherewith Nature has gifted him. Happy 
those who at Hick Herbert's time of life can still be young 
and still look forward into the future through the rose- 
colored glasses of which we all once possessed a pair, but 
which we are apt, somehow or other, to mislay before even 
youth itself is well over. Let us leave this reunited couple 
to enjoy the spring weather in remote Colorado, with the 
consolatory assurance that whatever they may have to say 
to one another can be of interest only to themselves. 


CHAPTER XlAm. 

CONCLUSION. 

To be in a fair way toward recovery is one thing, and to 
be in a state to take a long railway journey, cross the At- 
lantic, and give away your sister in marriage is quite 
another. Hick's restoration to health proved a more 
tedious business than had at first been anticipated; the 
summer was far advanced before he was able to return 
home, and a postponement of their wedding-day was found 
necessary by Miss Herbert and Bertie Cunningham, who 
might certainly expect, if ever any couple had a right to do 
so, that they would escape the danger which is said to 
threaten those who marry in haste. But at length they 
were duly united in the presence of a large concourse of 
friends and relatives; and, if appearances may be relied upon, 
they have neither repented of their bargain yet, nor are 
likely to repent of it at any future time. The first thing 
necessary to insure contentment here below is to know what 
you want, and the second is to be satisfied with it when you 
have got it. Bertie Cunningham and his wife may be con- 
sidered to have fulfilled these conditions. The former re- 
signed his commission on his marriage, and has been doing 


416 


A bachelor's blunder. 


nothing with great assiduity and complete satisfaction to 
himself ever since. His wife's estate in Yorkshire needs a 
great deal of looking after, he says; and he looks after it 
by riding in a leisurely fashion over parts of it when he 
happens to be at home. For the rest, he has got together 
a nice lot of hunters; his means permit him take a 
Scotch moor every year; and, as he is most amiable and 
well-to-do, lie is never likely to want for friends of both 
sexes. Whether his wife is ever jealous of him it would be 
difficult to say. She has, at any rate, the wisdom not to 
be too exacting, and he is always careful to consult her 
wishes and convenience. Upon one occasion he confided to 
Mrs. Pier point his belief that Carry, after all, was better 
suited to a man of his habits than a certain lady with whom 
he would once have considered it the summit of earthly 
bliss to spend his life, and whom he still greatly admires. 
44 The fact is," said he, 44 that she would have been too 
good for the likes of me." 

4 4 And pray do you imagine that Carry is not too good 
for your" Mrs. Pierpoint rejoined. 

“No; but I am good enough for her. Or, at least, she 
thinks so — -which comes to the same thing. She is satisfied 
with the simple pleasures that satisfy you and me. She is 
fond of hunting, she is fond of society, she doesn't object 
to the smell of smoke; add so, you see, we manage to. hit 
it off tolerably well." 

Mrs, Pierpoint will probably 'be absent both from society 
and from the hunting-field for some little time' to come, 
being in deep mourning for the intemperate Marmaduke, 
who died somewhat suddenly a few months ago — 44 of gen- 
eral debility," to borrow the charitable phrase employed 
by the doctor who attended, him. As, during his life-time, 
he lost no opportunity of bringing misery and shame upon 
his wife, it is only in the nature of things that his decease 
should have left her inconsolable.. 

Of the other persons who have been more or less con- 
cerned with the course of this story it is pleasant to be able 
to give an excellent report. If there is a woman in Eng- 
land who is not only fortunate and happy, but actually ad- 
mits herself to be so, it is Lady Jane Lefroy. Only the 
other day she married her second daughter to a young man 
of the highest position, character, and abilities, and she is 
inclined to take no small credit to herself for the signal 


a bachelor's blunder. 


417 


success which has crowned her efforts on behalf of the three 
maidens whom she had on her hands at the time when she 
was first introduced to the reader. 

“ You see, my dear," she could not resist saying to 
Hope, not long ago, “ I was quite right in choosing Dick 
Herbert for you. I was always convinced that he was the 
man to be your husband, though you would not allow it. 
Another time you will know better." 

To this boast Hope could only reply that, while confess- 
ing the justice of her aunt's intuitions, she was not eager to 
have a second opportunity of profiting by them.. 

“ Jane Lefroy," says Lady Chatterton, with a sniff, 4 4 is 
as proud of her luck as if she had deserved it. Her niece 
happened to be beautiful, and her daughters had a fair 
share of good looks, for which I am sure they were not in- 
debted to her! so, as I took them by the hand, they were 
able to marry well. How they have got on and will get on. 
with their respective husbands is another question." 

But even Lady Chatterton can not help worshiping suc- 
cess, and she has taken to treating her old friend with con- 
siderably more respect than of yore. 

Mr. Lefroy threatens to retire from Parliament at an 
early date. The House of Commons, he says, is no longer 
what it used to be. A man doesn't meet his friends there, 
and. the iniquitous folly of the views held upon the subject 
of land by certain right honorable gentlemen opposite is 
enough to make decent people hesitate about even sitting in 
the same Assembly with such mischievous and ignorant 
prigs. “ As I am speaking privately, and cannot be called 
to order, I shall not withdraw the expression 4 mischievous 
and ignorant prigs. ' If that is the sort of thing that passes 
for statesmanship nowadays, all I can say is, the sooner we 
imitate the Americans, and leave politics to the professional 
politicians, the better. " It is said, however, that the lead- 
ers of Mr. Lefroy' s party are most unwilling to lose his sup- 
port in the House, and that he has yielded — at all events, 
provisionally — to their solicitations. 

When Tristram beard of the drama which had been en- 
acted in Colorado, he was greatly agitated and distressed, 
feeling that he ought to have foreseen and might have pre- 
vented it. His first impulse was to go straight down to 
Farndon and see Hope; but, luckily, he did not act upon 
this, and the subsequent course of events determined him 

14 


418 


A bachelor’s blunder. 


to keep his own counsel. No good purpose, assuredly, 
could have been served by his demonstrating, as he might 
have done, that Jacob had attempted Mr. Herbert’s life in 
cold blood, and he did not desire to affix a stigma to the 
memory of a young artist who had succeeded in enlisting 
his sympathies. As being in some sort Jacob’s executor, 
he felt bound to give effect to the testator’s last wishes, 
though with some misgivings as to the good taste of so do- 
ing. He, accordingly hired a gallery in Bond Street, where 
he exhibited the painting of Cain during the ensuing season, 
and where it drew immense crowds. 

The criticism of the experts was such as might have been 
anticipated. Full justice was done to the merits of the 
composition; the genius of its author was extolled and his 
premature demise lamented; a good deal was said about 
the “ lurid light” cast upon the subject chtosen by 4 4 cir- 
cumstances which will be fresh in the memory of our read- 
ers;” and one writer went so far as to aver that it was 
44 impossible to study closely the expression given to the 
countenance of Cain in this striking picture without a pain- 
ful conviction that the hand which painted it was that of 
one already attacked by the first symptoms of homicidal 
mania. ” 

Nothing more than this was required to call forth from 
Tristram — who happened to have held much the same opin- 
ion himself until he saw it, in print — a torrent of scorn* and 
derision. ‘ 4 That’s your art-critic all over!” he exclaimed. 
44 Homicidal mania, indeed! — homicidal grandmother! 
Because, forsooth, a man who undertakes to paint a mur- 
derer makes him look like a murderer, he is a homicidal 
maniac! 4 "Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat. ’ I 
suppose the next thing we shall hear will be that Leonardo 
da Yinci was attacked by the first symptoms of klepto- 
mania because he could give a life-like representation of 
Judas Iscariot. What, I wonder, ought poor Stiles to have 
made Cain look like in order to prove his own sanity and 
morality? — a Methodist parson?” 

But Tristram took up quite another tone when discuss- 
ing this matter with one commentator upon Jacob’s last 
effort, who had visited the gallery at the close of the season, 
and had left it with a grave, sad face. 

4 ‘ It is a distressing picture,” Hope said, 44 but I am glad 
to have seen it — glad and sorry. It makes my heart ache 


A bachelor's blunder. 


419 


for poor Jacob; and yet it is a satisfaction to me to get rid 
of the doubt that has sometimes tormented me as to 
whether he was really as innocent as I thought him at first. 
He had a curiously strong feeling of resentment against my 
husband, and for himself I know that he valued life very 
little. But after looking at that picture I am certain that 
he must have been deranged. One 'sees in every line of it 
how intensely he realized the situation, and there is nothing 
far-fetched in the idea that it ended by affecting his brain. 
You agree with me, don't you?" she added, eagerly. 

“I do not believe," replied Tristram, 4 4 that the poor 
fellow was responsible for his actions. I should like you 
to keep a corner for him in your kind heart, Mrs. Herbert, 
because I am persuaded of one thing, and that is that he 
would never willingly have done you an injury." 

“Poor Jacob!" sighed Hope; “he did me no injury. 
On the contrary, he did me a great kindness, without in- 
tending it; for if he had not tried to kill Dick I should not 
have gone to America; and perhaps if I had not gone to 
America — " 

She left her sentence unfinished, but Tristram had no 
difficulty in filling up the hiatus. He understood quite well 
that Jacob by failure had achieved success, and that the 
luckless young fellow's death had, after an unexpected 
fashion, brought happiness to her for whose sake he had 
been content to die. 

Happy she undoubtedly is — happy in her home, in her 
husband, and now also in her child ; for the birth of a son 
and heir has recently been made the occasioft of great re- 
joicings on Mr. Herbert's estates. She has not abandoned 
her artistic tastes, and devotes a certain portion of each 
day to work in the new studio which Dick has caused to be 
built for her. It is scarcely likely that she will ever rise 
above the level of an exceptionally clever amateur; but she 
still cherishes a secret ambition of some day or other seeing 
a work of hers hung upon the walls of the Royal Academy, 
and in this Tristram does not fail to encourage her — not, 
indeed, because he attaches much value to the desired dis- 
tinction, but because, as he says, it would be a pity that 
she should not have something left to hope for. ■ 


THE END. 


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742 Love and Life 20 

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First half 20 

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382 Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

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383 Introduced to Society. Hamil- 

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389 Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha 

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399 Miss Brown. Vernon Lee 20 

403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
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406 The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

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407 Tylney Hall. Thomas Hood ... 20 
426 Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

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430 A Bitter Reckoning. Author 

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435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 

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436 Stella. Fanny Lewald 20 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

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458 A Week of Passion; or, The 
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468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
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M. Stanley 

474 Sera pis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 

479 Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 
483 Betwixt My Love and Me." By 
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485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 

Cobban 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

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A Crimson Stain. Annie Brad- 
shaw 10 

For Maimie’s Sake. Grant 

Allen 20 

Unfairly Won. Mrs. Power 

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Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. 

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No. XIII; or, The Story of the 
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The Castle of Otranto. Hor- 
ace Walpole . 10 


662 

668 

20 

669 

10 675 

8 8 

10 681 

692 

10 

10 705 

20 

20 706 

10 712 

10 718 

» m 

» 733 

so .ras 

so «» 

10 731 

10 735 

10 

738 

10 

so 748 

so 749 

20 750 

W 

10 752 

20 754 

10 

• ?s 

20 

10 757 

20 759 

20 766 

20 

770 

10 

4UA> 


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773 Tiie Mark of Cain. Andrew 

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801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 
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803 Major Frank. A. L. G. Bos- 

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807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 
809 Witness My Hand. By author 
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BO Her Dearest Foe 20 

36 The Wooing O’t 20 

46 The Heritage of Langdale 20 

870 Ralph Wilton’s Weird...... ....... ...... 10 

400 Which Shall it Be?. 20 

532 Maid, Wife, or W idow. ...................... 10 

1231 The Freres . 20 

1259 Valerie’s Fate ... „ . ........ . 10 

1391 Look Before You Leap. ........ 20 

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1721 The Executor 20 

1934 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid ..... 10 

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417 Macleod of Dare . 20 

451 Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

568 Green Pastures and Piccadilly 10 

816 White Wings: A Yachting Romance, 10 

826 Oliver Goldsmith 10 

950 Sinn rise: A Story of These Times 20 

i 025 The Pupil of Aurelius. . . . 10 

1032 That Beautiful Wretch. 10 

1161 The Four MacNicols 10 

1264 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in the Highlands 10 

1429 An Adventure in Thule. A Story for Young People 10 

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1683 Yolande 20 

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69 To the Bitter End 20 

89 The Lovels of Arden 20 

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109 Eleanor’s Victory 20 

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140 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 20 

190 Henry Dunbar » 20 

215 Birds of Prey 20 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

251 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

254 The Octoroon. . . 10 

260 Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

287 Leigljton Grange 10 

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322 Dead-Sea Fruit 20 

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482 The Cloven Foot 20 

500 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

519 Weavers and Weft 10 

525 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

589 A Strange World 20 

550 Fenton’s Quest 20 

562 John Marchm^nt’s Legacy 20 

572 The Lady’s Mile , 20 

579 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

581 Only a Woman (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon). „ . 20 

619 Taken at the Flood 20 

641 Only a Clod 20 

649 Publicans and Sinners 20 

656 George Caulfield’s Journey 10 

665 The Shadow in the Corner 10 

666 Bound to John Company; or, Robert Ainsleigh 20 

701 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery . 20 

705 Put to the Test (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part 1 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part II 20 

811 Dudley Carleon 10 

828 The Fatal Marriage 10 

837 Just as I Am; or, A Living Lie 20 

942 Asphodel 20 

1154 The Mistletoe Bough 20 

1265 Mount Royal 20 

1469 Flower and Weed 10 

1553 The Golden Calf 20 

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162 Shirley 20 

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967 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall 20 

1098 Agnes Grey 20 

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495 Claire’s tiove-Life 10 

552 Love at Saratoga 20 

672 Eve, The Factory Girl. 20 

716 Black Bell 20 

854 Corisande 20 

907 Three Sewing Girls 20 

1019 His First Love 20 

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1192 Vendetta; or, Tlie Southern Heiress 20 

1254 Wild and Wilful 20 

1533 Elfrida; or, A Young Girl’s Love-Story 20 

1709 Love and Jealousy (illustrated) 20 

1810 Married for Money (illustrated) 20 

1 829 Only Mattie Garland 20 

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14 The Dead Secret 20 

22 Man and Wife 20 

32 The Queen of Hearts 20 

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76 The New Magdalen 10 

94 The Law and The Lady 20 

180 Armadale 20 

191 My Lady’s Money 10 

225 The Two Destinies 10 

250 No Name 20 

286 After Dark 10 

409 The Haunted Hotel 10 

433 A Shocking Story A 

487 A Rogue’s Life 10 


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551 The Yellow Mask . . . . „ lh 

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675 The Moonstone ..... 20 

696 Jezebel’s Daughter 20 

713 The Captain’s Last Love. 10 

721 Basil . 20 

745 The Magic Spectacles 10 

905 Duel in Herne Wood 10 

928 Who Killed Zebedee? 10 

971 The Frozen Deep 10 

990 The BLck Robe 20 

1164 Your Money or Your Life 10 

1 544 Heart and Science. A Story of the Present Time 20 

1770 Love’s Random Shot 10 

1856 “I Ssy No” 20 

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224 The Deerslayer. 20 

226 The Pathfinder.. 20 

229 The Pioneers 20 

231 The Prairie 20 

233 The Pilot 20 

585 The Water Witch 20 

590 The Two Admirals 20 

615 The Red Rover 20 

761 Wing-and-Wing 20 

940 The Spy 20 

1066 The Wyandotte 20 

1257 Afloat and Ashore 20 

1262 Miles Wallingford (Sequel to “Afloat and Ashore”) 20 

1669 The Headsman; or, The Abbaye des Vignerons 20 

1605 The Monikins 20 

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100 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

102 Hard Times. ..... 10 


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187 David Copperfield 20 

200 Nicholas Nickleby * 20 

213 Barnaby Rudge . 20 

218 Dombey and Son. 20 

239 No Thoroughfare (Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins) .... 10 

247 Martin Chuzzlewit 20 

272 The Cricket on the Hearth. 10 

284 Oliver Twist 20 

289 A Christmas Carol 10 

297 The Haunted Man * 10 

304 Little Dorrit 20 

308 The Chimes. 10 

317 The Battle of Life. . . 10 

325 Our Mutual Friend 20 

337 Bleak House ! 20 

352 Pickwick Papers 20 

359 Somebody’s Luggage 10 

367 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

372 Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices 10 

375 Mugby Junction 10 

403 T(^m Tiddler’s Ground 10 

498 The Uncommercial Traveler 20 

521 Master Humphrey’s Clock ,* 10 

625 Sketches by Boz 20 

639 Sketches of Young Couples 10 

827 The Mudfog Papers, &c 10 

860 The Mystery of Edwin Drood 20 

900 Pictures From Italy 10 

1411 A Child’s History of England 20 

1464 The Picnic Papers 20 

1558 Three Detective Anecdotes, and Other Sketches 10 

WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF “DORA THORNE.” 

449 More Bitter than Death 10 

618 Madolin’s Lover .......... 20 

656 A Golden Dawn 10 

678 A Dead Heart 10 

718 Lord Lynne’s Choice; or, True Love Never Runs Smooth. 10 

746 Winch Loved Him Best 20 

846 Dora Thorne 20 

921 At War with Herself jq 


THE 


New York Fashion Bazar. 

THE BEST AMERICAN HOME MAGAZINE. 

Price 25 Cents Per Copy s $5.00 Per Year. 


All yearly subscribers on our list on the first of December will be 
entitled to a beautiful chromo, entitled: 

“ HAPPY AS A KING.” 

The New York Fashion Bazar is a magazine for ladies. It 
contains everything which a lady’s magazine ought to contain. 
The fashions in dress which it publishes are new and reliable. Par- 
ticular attention is devoted to fashions for children of all ages. Its 
plates and descriptions will assist every lady in the preparation of 
her wardrobe, both in making new dresses and remodeling old ones. 
The fashions are derived from the best houses and are always prac- 
tical as well as new and tasteful. 

Every lady reader of The New York Fashion Bazar can make 
her own dresses with the aid of Munro’s Bazar Patterns. These are 
carefully cut to measure and pinned into the perfect semblance of the 
garment. They are useful in altering old as well as in making new 
clothing. 

The Bazar Embroidery Supplements form an important part of 
the magazine. Fancy work is carefully described and illustrated, 
and new patterns given in every number. 

All household matters are fully and interestingly treated. Home 
information, decoration, personal gossip, correspondence, and recipes 
for cooking have each a department. 

Among its regular contributors are Mary Cecil Hay, “ The Duch- 
ess,” author of “ Molly Bawn,” Lucy Randall Comfort, Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora Thorne,” Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 
and Mary E. Bryan. 

The stories published in The New York Fashion Bazar are the 
best that can be had. 

GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, N Y. 


THE CELEBRATED 


SOHMER 


GRAND, SQUARE AND UPRIGHT PIANOS. 


FIRST PRIZE 

DIPLOMA. 


Centennial Exhibi- 
tion, 1876; Montreal, 
1881 and 1882. 


Tiie enviable po- 
sition Sohmer & 
Co. hold among 
American Piano 
Manufacturers is 
solely due to the 
merits of their in- 
struments. 



They are use 
in Conservatc 
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Seminaries, on at 
count of their st 
perior tone a n ■ 
unequaled dure 
bility. 

The SOHME] 
Piano is a specia 
favorite with tb 
leading musician 
and critics. 


ARE AT PRESENT THE MOST POPULAR 

AND PREFERRED BY THE LEADING ARTISTS. 

SOHMER & CO., Manufacturers, No. 149 to 155 E. 14th Street, N. Y. 


6,000 MILES 


OJP 

RAILROAD 



THE BEST 


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IT TRAVERSES THE MOST DESIRABLE PORTIONS OF 

ILLINOIS, IOWA, NEBRASKA, WISCONSIN, MINNESOTA 
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THE POPULAR SHORT LINE 


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R • S. H A I R, General Passenaer Airent, CHICAGO, ILL. 










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